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HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  COMPANY 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 


THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

A  CONTRIBUTION 

TO  THE  STUDY  OF  THE  BIRD 

AS  HE  IS  IN  LIFE 

BY 

OLIVE  THORNE  MILLER 


BOSTON   AND   NEW   YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
XUtolfre  prcite,  Canrtrftrge 
1908 


COPYRIGHT  1908  BY  H.  M.  MILLER 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 

Published  May  iqo8 


BIOLOGY 
LIBRARY 


M4-3 

biOLOGY 
LIBRARY 


The  ultimate  end  of  this  kind  of  study  [of  bird-life"] 
is  not  simply  the  acquisition  of  facts,  but  it  is  to  estab- 
lish a  human  relation  with  these  things  out  of  doors, 
and  to  develop  the  sympathy  and  the  love  of  the  beau- 
tiful which  is  bound  to  come  through  a  friendship  es- 
tablished with  any  kind  of  organic  life.  —  W.  E.  D. 
SCOTT. 

The  uplifting  influence  that  birds  may  exert  upon  the 
lives  of  men  constitutes  to  many  their  greatest  value 
and  charm.  A  growing  appreciation  of  the  aesthetic 
and  the  educational  value  of  birds  has  sent  many  cul- 
tured folk  to  the  woods  and  fields.  .  .  .  Possibly,  how- 
ever, the  greatest  boon  that  the  study  of  birds  can  confer 
upon  man  is  seen  in  the  power  of  the  bird-lover  to  keep 
his  spirit  young.  —  EDWABD  HOWE  FOEBUSH,  Useful 
Birds  and  their  Protection. 


M532973 


PREFACE 

So  much  has  been  said  of  late  about  the 
characteristics  and  habits  of  the  bird  that  it 
seems  worth  while  to  collect  the  testimony  of 
persons  who  have  studied  the  living  bird,  and 
thus  to  throw  a  strong  light  upon  his  life  and 
his  ways. 

In  this  contribution  to  the  better  under- 
standing of  our  interesting  little  brothers,  I 
have  aimed  to  admit  no  testimony  except  that 
of  competent  and  trustworthy  witnesses,  tak- 
ing it  in  many  cases  from  the  unimaginative 
reports  of  science,  written  with  no  thought  of 
popular  publication,  and  with  equal  care  ex- 
cluding the  sensational  stories  current  in  the 
newspapers,  which  are  usually  unauthenticated 
and  in  many  cases  the  offspring  of  a  vivid 
imagination  and  an  unscrupulous  pen. 

It  will  be  noted  that  my  own  observations 
and  conclusions  —  the  result  of  more  than 
thirty  years  of  close  and  absorbing  study  of 
bird-life  —  are  supported  by  the  evidence  of 


viii  PREFACE 

others,  every  one,  as  I  have  reason  to  believe, 
an  honest,  truthful  observer. 

Although  this  little  book  has  been  written 
during  the  past  few  months,  to  meet  what 
seems  to  be  a  pressing  need,  it  is  not  a  hasty 
collection.  Because  of  my  intense  interest  in 
the  living  bird  and  regret  for  the  wide-spread 
ignorance  of  his  real  self  which  is  met  with 
everywhere,  I  have  been  for  years  collecting 
the  sentiments  and  opinions,  the  experiences 
and  observations,  of  other  students  of  the 
bird  as  he  is  in  life,  parts  of  which  are  here 
brought  together. 

The  book  is  intended  solely  for  the  "  gen- 
eral reader,"  being  not  in  the  least  technical, 
having  nothing  to  say  of  anatomy  or  classifi- 
cation, or  of  the  bird's  place  in  the  great 
scheme  of  creation.  It  is  simply  an  earnest 
attempt  to  bring  into  compact  form  the  in- 
formation gathered,  to  present  him  as  an  in- 
dividual, a  fellow  pilgrim  in  this  fair  world  of 
ours.  It  does  not  profess  to  be  the  last  word 
on  the  subject,  rather  it  is  almost  the  first 
effort,  so  far  as  I  know,  to  present  the  living 
bird  as  he  is. 

These  studies  I  now  offer  to  the  lovers  of 


PREFACE  ix 

birds  who  have  a  sincere  wish  for  better  ac- 
quaintance with  the  living,  loving,  enjoying, 
suffering  little  fellow  creatures  living  among 
us  though  not  of  us,  our  neighbors  yet  almost 
strangers  to  us. 

OLIVE  THORNE  MILLER. 
Los  ANGELES,  CAL.,  April,  1908. 


CONTENTS 

I.  His  INDIVIDUALITY  ......  3 

II.  His  INTELLIGENCE 23 

III.  His  LANGUAGE 49 

IV.  His  ALTRUISM       ......  67 

V.  His  EDUCATION 85 

VI.  His  AFFECTIONS 103 

VII.  His  COURTSHIP         ......  125 

VIII.  His  HOME 145 

IX.   His  AMUSEMENTS 175 

X.  His  MEANS  OF  DEFENSE  AND  ATTACK        .      201 
XI.  His  ODD  WAYS        .        .        .        .        .        .223 

XII.  His  EQUIPMENT 253 

XIII.  His  USEFULNESS  TO  Us 275 

XIV.  CONCLUSION 295 

APPENDIX 299 

INDEX  323 


I 

HIS  INDIVIDUALITY 


You  may  shoot  and  dissect  them  and  study  them  as 
you  would  fossils,  but  a  bird  is  a  living  thing,  and  you 
will  never  really  know  him  till  you  fully  understand 
how  he  lives.  —  W.  WARDE  FOWLER,  A  Year  With 
the  Birds. 

Birds  possess  so  many  of  man's  mental  attributes  that 
the  sympathetic  student  of  their  habits  often,  uncon- 
sciously perhaps,  endows  them  with  the  mind  of  man 
entire.  —  FRANK  M.  CHAPMAN,  article  in  The  Century 
Magazine. 


THE  BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 


HIS  INDIVIDUALITY 

THE  history  of  man's  relations  with  birds  is  a 
curious  study ;  from  the  days  when  they  were 
regarded  as  so  mysterious  as  to  be  supernatural 
and  their  least  actions  were  thought  to  have  a 
bearing  on  the  fortunes  of  men,  when  they 
were  exalted  into  gods  and  worshiped,  down 
through  the  ages  in  which  they  have  been  con- 
sidered the  legitimate  prey  of  the  human  race 
with  no  rights  whatever,  even  to  our  day,  in 
which  we  are  just  beginning  to  study  them  in- 
telligently, as  fellow  creatures. 

To  study  them  intelligently  we  have  even 
now  first  to  divest  ourselves  of  the  old-time 
notion  that  birds — and  beasts  as  well — are 
radically  different  from  ourselves,  that  in  place 
of  the  reason  which  governs,  or  should  govern, 
our  conduct,  they  possess  only  a  blind  instinct. 
Until  we  do  this,  they  and  their  lives  will  re- 
main a  mystery. 


4  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

"  From  hummingbird  to  eagle,  the  daily 
existence  of  every  bird  is  a  remote  and  be- 
witching mystery/'  says  Thomas  Wentworth 
Higginson  in  "  Outdoor  Papers." 

Not  until  we  come  to  see  that  the  "  lower 
orders"  are  closely  related  to  us  —  weaker 
brothers,  with  rights  and  claims  upon  us  — 
shall  we  be  able  to  appreciate  and  understand 
them.  That  birds  are  individuals  not  unlike 
ourselves,  that  they  possess  many  of  our  traits 
and  characteristics,  we  are  learning  slowly,  as 
we  study  them  more  intelligently. 

Mr.  Frank  Bolles  bears  testimony  to  the  fact 
that  bird-study  is  of  deep  scientific  interest, 
and  countless  secrets  of  nature  await  the  real 
student,  "  for  no  lif etime,"  he  says,  "  is  long 
enough  to  learn  all  about  even  one  bird."1 

Let  me  in  the  beginning  define  a  bird-stu- 
dent as  the  term  is  used  in  this  book.  When 
I  speak  of  bird-students  or  of  observers,  I 
do  not  mean  the  stroller  who  passes  leisurely 
through  fields  and  woods,  pausing  now  and 
then  to  notice  a  bird  more  or  less  casually, 
while  the  bird  on  his  part  is  perfectly  aware 
of  the  scrutiny,  and  fully  on  guard,  being  no 

1  References  are  to  citations  in  the  Appendix. 


HIS   INDIVIDUALITY  5 

more  natural  and  unreserved  in  his  actions 
than  would  be  a  person  knowing  that  he  was 
under  observation  by  one  who  might  any  mo- 
ment develop  into  a  dangerous  enemy.  Such 
a  person  may  be  a  nature-lover  and  even  a 
charming  writer.  Still  less  do  I  mean  by  the 
term  observer  the  technicist  who  looks  with 
murderous  eye,  whose  trophy  is  a  mangled 
body,  to  be  dissected,  measured,  and  weighed, 
to  add  figures  to  the  already  innumerable 
statistics.  This  is  a  student  of  anatomy  and 
classification,  and  with  neither  of  the  two 
classes  does  this  book  concern  itself.  By  a  bird- 
student,  or  an  observer,  I  mean  one  who  gives 
hours  and  days  and  weeks  and  months  to  the 
closest  observation  of  one  bird  or  one  species, 
watching  to  see  how  he  lives  and  moves  and 
has  his  being,  what  he  eats  and  how  he  con- 
ducts his  affairs — for  he  has  affairs  "even  as 
you  or  I,"  as  interesting,  as  absorbing,  as  im- 
portant to  him  as  ours  to  us. 

It  is  life,  not  death !  It  is  a  living,  loving, 
hoping,  working  fellow  creature,  not  a  tangled 
mass  of  dead  flesh  and  feathers  that  the  stu- 
dent I  speak  of  shall  study.  A  student,  as  I 
understand  it,  is  one  who  so  far  as  possible 


6  THE   BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

effaces  himself,  so  that  the  bird  under  observa- 
tion shall  forget  or  ignore  him,  and  shall  pro- 
ceed with  his  business  or  pleasures  as  if  he  had 
no  observer ;  and  in  addition  to  this  close  and 
patient  study,  shall  make  careful,  and  above 
all  strictly  accurate,  notes  at  the  moment  of 
observation,  and  resolutely  curb  the  temptation 
to  impute  motives  and  set  them  forth  as  facts. 
Such  observers  are  rare  as  white  blackbirds, 
but,  as  in  the  case  of  the  blackbirds,  such  are 
occasionally  to  be  found,  and  when  one  of  that 
sort  affirms  anything,  let  no  one  less  earnest 
and  devoted  question  his  statement. 

We  all  know  the  story  of  Madam  Mer- 
rian,  who  in  writing  her  observations  in  South 
America,  at  that  time  little  known  by  natural- 
ists, mentioned  a  bird-eating  spider,  and  in 
consequence  lost  caste  and  was  characterized 
by  the  oracles  of  the  day  as  untruthful  and 
untrustworthy,  yet  who  was  completely  vin- 
dicated in  later  years,  when  that  country  was 
studied  by  unimpeachable  naturalists  such  as 
Bates  and  others,  and  the  bird-eating  spider 
found  to  be  not  at  all  uncommon. 

This  little  story  holds  a  lesson  for  the  self- 
styled  authorities  of  our  own  time,  yet  any 


HIS   INDIVIDUALITY  7 

unusual  and  hitherto  unknown  fact  or  habit 
reported  is  sure  even  now  to  bring  out  the 
same  old  hue-and-cry  of  ignorance,  "  We  have 
never  seen  such  a  thing !  None  of  our  books 
have  recorded  it !  Ergo,  it  is  not  true  !  He 
is  not  to  be  believed ! "  This  treatment  is 
discouraging  to  the  enthusiastic  student,  and 
not  infrequently  leads  to  the  suppression  of 
unusual  observations  by  one  who  values  his 
good  name  as  an  observer. 

Among  the  many  common  errors  about  birds 
is  this:  that  in  manners  and  habits  birds  are 
exactly  like  one  another.  This  is  the  first  great 
mistake  to  combat.  Nothing  is  more  interest- 
ing or  more  surprising  to  a  beginner  in  the 
study  than  the  great  variety  he  finds  in  their 
"tricks  and  manners,"  in  a  word  their  indi- 
viduality. 

Volumes  of  testimony  to  the  individuality 
of  birds  from  competent  observers  could  be 
presented,  from  both  English  and  American 
naturalists ;  and  not  only  of  individuality  in 
character,  habits,  manners,  and  songs,  but  even 
in  externals.  In  serious  truth  one  may  safely 
say  that  to  the  conscientious  student  of  indi- 
vidual birds  no  two  even  of  the  same  species 


8  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

are  counterparts,  either  in  manners,  charac- 
teristics, or  external  appearance,  and  a  real 
observer  very  soon  learns  to  distinguish  the 
individual  he  is  studying,  from  his  neighbors 
of  the  same  species,  by  variations  in  size,  or 
peculiarities  of  plumage,  even  before  his  man- 
ners differentiate  him  from  all  others  of  his 
kind. 

Says  one  authority,  whom  no  rash  mortal 
will  venture  to  impeach,  "  It  is  known  that  all 
the  different  individuals  of  a  species  are  not 
exactly  alike,  as  though  all  were  cast  in  the 
same  die,  as  some  naturalists  appear  to  have 
believed."2  And  another  says:  " Every  col- 
lecting ornithologist  knows  how  rare  it  is  to 
find  two  individuals  whose  color  and  measure- 
ments correspond  exactly.  Among  hundreds 
of  specimens  of  the  same  species,  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  find  two  skins  which  agree 
so  closely  as  to  be  indistinguishable."3  "A 
practical  naturalist,"  says  a  third,  "  knows  well 
that  all  birds  and  animals  vary ;  and  you  will 
find  as  much  difference,  comparatively  speak- 
ing, in  the  sizes  and  dispositions  of  a  nest  of 
young  birds  or  a  litter  of  animals,  as  you  will 
in  a  family  of  human  beings."4  Again,  the 


HIS  INDIVIDUALITY  9 

same  author:  "It  makes  the  true  naturalist 
feel  very  humble  in  spirit,  when,  after  long 
years  of  patient  observation,  he  sees  the 
different  creatures  show  themselves  in  most 
unlooked-for  situations,  and  apparently  new 
characters."  5 

It  is  recorded  in  the  books  just  what  notes 
should  compose  the  song  of  a  sparrow,  yet 
again,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  true  student 
finds  that  although  there  is  always  sufficient 
resemblance,  there  are  variations,  changes,  and 
idiosyncrasies  in  the  songs  of  individuals  that 
render  it  impossible  to  make  hard  and  fast 
lines  in  the  matter. 

Persons  who  have  attempted  to  classify  and 
reduce  to  our  musical  scale  the  songs  of  birds, 
have  found  this  an  insuperable  difficulty,  and 
the  more  closely  the  matter  was  studied  the 
more  impossible  it  has  been  found  accurately 
to  represent  the  wonderful  variety  in  the  songs 
of  one  species.  The  utmost  that  can  honestly 
be  said  is,  that  all  of  a  species  ordinarily  utter 
their  notes  in  an  approximately  common  way. 
"It  will  not  do  to  say  that  the  singers  of  any 
species  sing  exactly  alike." 6 

"  It  is  nearly  as  difficult  to  find  two  thrush 


10  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

songs  that  are  identical  as  it  would  be  to  match 
two  skins.  Not  only  do  separate  individuals 
utter  various  phrases,  but  each  has  a  repertoire 
of  his  own.  There  are  differences  of  quality  of 
tones,  too,  that  are  very  noticeable." 7 

"Every  bird  sings  his  own  song,"  says 
another  who  has  made  a  study  of  this ;  "  no 
two  sing  exactly  alike,  .  .  .  the  song  of  every 
singer  is  unique.  There  are,  of  course,  similari- 
ties in  the  songs  of  birds  of  the  same  species. 
.  .  .  For  lack  of  intimate  acquaintance  with 
the  music  of  a  particular  bird,  we  think  he 
sings  just  like  the  next  one.  Why!  do  all 
roosters  have  the  same  crow  ?  No ;  any  farmer 
knows  better  than  that.  .  .  .  Every  individual 
sings  his  own  song." 8 

"Every  trained  field  ornithologist  discrim- 
inates individuality  in  song,  and  some  have 
been  so  fortunate  as  to  have  noted  wide  and 
radical  departures  from  what  I  have  distin- 
guished as  the  normal  song."  9 

Again,  as  to  variation  in  habits,  says  Pro- 
fessor Herrick :  "  Bluebirds  show  their  individ- 
uality in  an  even  more  marked  degree.  At  one 
nest  the  female  did  all  the  work,  while  the  male, 
which  escorted  her  about  and  sang,  always 


HIS  INDIVIDUALITY  11 

showed  the  greatest  timidity.  At  another,  how- 
ever, the  conditions  were  quite  the  reverse ;  not 
only  was  the  male  always  the  first  to  bring 
food,  but  his  pugnacity  reached  an  unexpected 
pitch  in  a  bird  whose  gentle  and  confiding  man- 
ners have  been  praised  by  many  enthusiasts."10 

A  friend  of  my  own,  and  a  careful  student, 
once  had  the  rare  opportunity  of  studying 
three  nests  of  the  brown  thrasher  at  the  same 
time,  and  in  a  personal  letter  she  assures  me 
that  the  manner  of  her  reception  at  each  of 
the  three  nests  was  entirely  different,  showing 
variations  of  temperament  which  she  consid- 
ered remarkable  in  birds  of  the  same  species. 

The  keeping  of  birds  in  captivity  by  one  of 
observing  habits  gives  excellent  opportunity 
for  acquaintance  with  bird  character.  All  in- 
telligent and  observing  keepers  of  pets  will 
corroborate  these  statements.  My  own  experi- 
ence of  several  years'  intimate  study  of  indi- 
viduals in  this  condition  first  opened  my  eyes 
to  the  vast  differences  in  the  characteristics 
of  birds. 

No  one  of  our  time  has  had  better  oppor- 
tunity for  the  study  of  individuality  in  bird 
character  than  Mr.  Frank  Bolles,  who,  as  is 


12  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

-well  known,  kept  several  owls  in  captivity  for 
years.  His  testimony  is  most  valuable  and  not 
to  be  questioned. 

Hear  also  the  experience  of  a  professional 
bird-keeper,  who,  after  many  years'  experience, 
has  written  a  book  of  instructions  for  the 
keeping  of  pets.  He  says :  "  No  person  except 
those  who  have  kept  birds  and  studied  them 
carefully,  could  ever  suppose  or  imagine  the 
immense  diversity  of  '  character '  that  exists 
even  among  the  same  species  of  our  domestic 
and  commonest  feathered  favorites.  ...  I 
kept  one  canary  eight  years,  alternately  in  soli- 
tude and  society.  He  was  a  confirmed  hermit 
in  his  tastes,  preferring  isolation  to  the  charms 
of  any  companionship  whatever.  Alone,  he  was 
affectionate,  lively,  and  content;  in  an  aviary 
he  made  himself  hated  by  the  hen- birds,  and 
bullied  by  those  of  his  own  sex.  .  .  .  His  son, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  merry  and  popular  in 
a  crowd  of  other  birds  of  various  kinds,  .  .  . 
everlastingly  feeding  or  being  fed  by  his  neigh- 
bors, personally  investigating  everything,  copy- 
ing the  notes  of  the  wild  birds,  singing  from 
dawn  till  dark,  and  even  after — for  gaslight 
was  always  the  signal  for  him  to  recommence 


HIS  INDIVIDUALITY  13 

his  droll  antics  and  wake  up  the  entire  aviary." 
Of  another  canary  he  says  :  "  She  had  an  ami- 
able knack  of  setting  the  aviary  by  the  ears. 
She  was  full  of  tricks  as  any  little  winged  imp." 
And  again,  the  same  writer  says :  "  Some  birds 
are  fanciful  to  a  delightful  degree,  and  refuse 
altogether  to  sing  if  they  object  to  the  paper- 
ing of  the  room  in  which  the  cage  is  hung."  n 

A  lady  who  has  given  us  some  charming 
books  of  minute  and  faithful  studies  of  birds 
and  beasts,  Mrs.  Effie  Bignell,  says  of  the  two 
robins  who  were  free  in  her  house,  that  they 
were  entirely  different  in  every  characteristic, 
one  of  them  loving  and  gentle  "  like  a  perfect 
gentleman,"  while  the  other  was  greed  itself, 
with  shocking  table  manners,  and  in  every 
other  way  very  different. 

The  curator  of  birds  in  the  New  York 
Zoological  Park  has  made  some  interesting 
studies  of  the  birds  under  his  control,  and 
bears  emphatic  testimony  to  their  individual- 
ity. He  says  of  cranes  :  — 

"  I  once  had  the  opportunity  of  studying 
four  sandhill  cranes  which  were  as  different 
in  temperament  as  four  birds  could  be.  One, 
a  male,  was  tame  to  a  ridiculous  extreme.  It 


14  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

would  follow  any  person  about  and  allow  any 
liberty  to  be  taken  with  it.  A  second  bird, 
also  a  male,  was  a  veritable  fiend.  He  would 
fly  and  run  fifty  yards  to  attack  any  one  ap- 
proaching, and  would  inflict  most  painful 
wounds  unless  beaten  off.  He  had  to  be 
thrown  down  many  times  with  thrusts  with 
a  stiff  branch  before  he  would  walk  slowly 
away,  not  even  then  admitting  defeat.  His 
mate,  a  smaller  bird,  was  still  different.  She 
imitated  her  lord  and  master  in  preparations 
for  attack,  and  rushed  in  a  very  ugly  way 
towards  one ;  but  when  the  critical  moment 
came,  she  never  dared  to  make  a  real  attack, 
for  she  was  an  inveterate  coward  at  heart.  A 
fourth  individual  was  stolid.  He  showed  signs 
neither  of  tameness  nor  hostility,  and  acted 
as  if  all  he  wished  for  was  to  be  let  alone." 12 
As  an  instance  of  the  strong  personality  of 
birds,  and  to  prove  that  they  make  selection 
of  a  mate  by  individual  preference,  the  same 
observer  tells  this  story :  The  drakes  in  the 
park  were  vying  with  each  other  for  the  favor 
of  a  little  brown  duck.  One  drake's  tail- 
feathers  and  the  curl  above  them  had  been 
shot  off ;  the  others  were  large  and  beautiful 


HIS  INDIVIDUALITY  15 

birds.  Nevertheless  the  pitiful  attempts  of  the 
handicapped  suitor  to  spread  an  imaginary 
tail  prevailed.  He  was  accepted,  and  the  pair 
were  afterwards  inseparable. 

And  again,  in  the  same  paper :  "  The  more 
I  study  birds  [and  birds  are  his  life  study] 
the  more  I  become  convinced  that  their  in- 
telligence has  been  greatly  underestimated." 13 

A  friend  who  had  a  pair  of  the  small  par- 
rots called,  from  their  caressing  ways,  love- 
birds, tells  this  amusing  story  of  the  behavior 
of  a  cardinal  grosbeak  whom  she  placed  tem- 
porarily in  their  cage.  They  were  all  amiable 
and  lived  together  pleasantly,  with  one  excep- 
tion. The  grosbeak,  a  dignified  bird,  looked 
with  disapproval  on  the  sentimentality  of  the 
pair,  and  after  observing  them  at  their  "  bill- 
ing and  cooing"  till  his  patience  was  ex- 
hausted, he  would  suddenly  drop  down  from 
his  higher  perch  right  between  them,  of  course 
scattering  them  right  and  left,  and  then  return 
to  his  perch  satisfied  till  they  began  again 
their  fondling. 

To  show  discrimination  in  colors  is  very 
common  among  birds.  The  captive  robins 
mentioned  never  liked  light  colors  nor  figured 


16  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

fabrics  in  their  mistress's  dress,  and  when  a 
lady  called  wearing  a  camel' s-hair  shawl,  both 
birds  went  into  a  panic,  dashing  wildly  about 
the  room  and  against  the  windows  in  a  very 
unusual  way.  One  of  these  birds  delighted  in 
a  certain  shade  of  yellow.  He  would  alight 
on  wool  of  this  color  in  perfect  rapture.  On 
the  contrary,  a  parrot  of  whom  a  friend  told 
me  hated  yellow,  and  would  scold  and  refuse 
to  approach  his  beloved  mistress  when  she 
wore  a  dress  of  that  color,  seeming  almost 
frantic  over  it.  Once  when  a  mass  of  ends  of 
worsted  was  given  to  him,  he  looked  it  over 
carefully  and  picked  out  all  the  blue  bits, 
which  he  put  in  a  pile  away  from  the  rest. 
Many  well-authenticated  cases  are  on  record 
of  birds  showing  choice  in  colors. 

That  birds  have  decided  choice  in  mates  is 
well  known  by  those  who  have  tried  to  mate 
them.  Mrs.  Brightwen  of  the  Selborne  So- 
ciety of  London,  England,  who  has  studied 
birds  in  semi-captivity  for  years,  attempting 
to  mate  a  pigeon,  was  forced  to  try  two  can- 
didates before  my  lady  was  pleased.  The  first 
suitor  she  treated  so  badly  that  he  had  to  be 
removed,  but  the  second  she  accepted.  Even 


HIS   INDIVIDUALITY  17 

so  thoroughly  unnatural  a  bird  as  a  canary 
shows  decided  notions  in  this  matter,  many 
instances  of  which  could  be  given. 

Even  in  infancy  birds  show  decided  charac- 
ter. Professor  Lloyd  Morgan,  who  has  given 
much  study  to  the  instinct  or  intelligence  of 
young  birds  by  rearing  them  from  an  incuba- 
tor so  that  they  could  never  have  had  instruc- 
tion from  their  parents,  has  made  interesting 
observations,  finding  that  "the  difference  in 
intelligence  of  young  birds  is  very  marked, 
always  some  are  more  active,  intelligent,  and 
mischievous."  14 

Mrs.  Irene  Grosvenor  Wheelock,  author  of 
several  books,  and  a  careful  student  of  living 
birds  in  the  nest,  has  found  decided  individu- 
ality in  young  bluebirds  as  early  as  ten  days 
old.  One  would  be  gentle,  easily  pacified,  and 
trustful,  while  another  was  fierce  and  resentful 
of  captivity.  15 

Richard  Jeff  eries  adds  his  testimony  :  "  Birds 
have  their  fancies,  likes  and  dislikes,  and  ca- 
prices ; "  and  Dr.  George  Harley,  F.  R.  S.,  in 
a  leaflet  published  by  the  Selborne  Society, 
says :  "  Each  individual  bird,  like  each  indi- 
vidual man  or  woman,  appears  to  possess  its 


18  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

own  inborn  idiosyncrasies,  not  alone  as  regards 
its  intelligence,  courage,  and  tact,  but  in  its 
tastes  and  proclivities;"  and  again:  "Just 
as  there  are  kind-hearted  and  cruel-hearted 
human  beings,  there  are  in  like  manner  good 
and  bad  birds."16 

The  same  is  affirmed  by  Frank  Bolles  in  a 
paper  on  "  Individuality  in  Birds ;  "  he  says : 
"  Individual  birds  of  the  same  species  have,  in 
proportion  to  the  sum  total  of  their  character- 
istics, as  much  variation  as  individual  men.  Of 
course,  there  is  not  nearly  the  same  chance  for 
individuality  in  birds  as  in  men,  for  their 
methods  of  life  and  their  mental  qualities  are 
simple,  while  those  of  men  are  complex." 

He  says  that  between  his  three  barred  owls 
there  were  individual  differences  in  disposi- 
tion, and  that  they  stood  out  distinctly  in  his 
mind  as  three  characters,  just  as  three  children 
or  three  horses  would  be  distinguished.  And 
again,  of  two  horned  owls  in  captivity  he  says : 
"To  my  eyes,  the  expressions  of  their  faces 
were  as  different  as  they  would  have  been  in  two 
persons  of  opposite  temperaments."  And  again : 
"  One  summer  I  caught  and  caged  three  young 
sap-sucking  woodpeckers  as  they  were  prepar- 


HIS  INDIVIDUALITY  19 

ing  to  fly.  .  .  .  From  the  hour  when  I  took 
these  little  birds  away  from  their  nest,  I  never 
failed  to  recognize  each  of  them  as  having 
individual  characteristics  not  possessed  by  the 
others."17 

"  Those  who  look  after  birds  kept  in  captiv- 
ity are  soon  able  to  know  each  one  unfailingly, 
.  .  .  though  they  would  often  find  it  impossi- 
ble to  point  out  wherein  the  difference  lay.  Yet 
because  the  difference  cannot  be  expressed  in 
words,  its  existence  is  not  to  be  denied." 18 

Mr.  W.  E.  D.  Scott,  already  mentioned,  says 
in  an  account  of  the  blue  jays  at  liberty  in 
his  bird  rooms  :  "  While  certain  characteris- 
tics seem  to  be  common  to  all  blue  jays,  a 
greater  familiarity  with  them  will  sustain  the 
assertion  that  they  have  much  individuality." 19 

A  well-known  and  charming  English  writer 
using  the  pseudonym  "  A  Son  of  the  Marshes  " 
says :  "  A  pair  of  carrion  crows  would  provide 
the  most  earnest  observer  with  honest  work 
of  a  by  no  means  light  character  for  a  whole 
year ;  " 20  and  further :  "  We  who  study  them 
closely  must,  I  am  sure,  honestly  confess,  that 
a  great  deal  has  yet  to  be  learned  about  our 
small  birds." 


20  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

As  an  instance  of  individuality  in  mischief, 
let  me  quote  this  little  story  :  — 

It  was  found  that  young  teal  were  being 
killed  by  gulls;  an  experienced  keeper  sug- 
gested that  it  was  probably  the  work  of  a  single 
gull.  On  watching,  it  was  found  that  only  one 
pair  killed  ducklings.  This  pair  were  shot,  and 
no  more  young  were  killed.  Another  year  duck- 
killing  began  and  it  was  found  that  another 
pair  were  killing.  On  their  being  shot,  no  more 
ducklings  were  killed  that  season.  The  theory 
is  confidently  advanced  that  a  few  individual 
birds  do  the  mischief  for  which  perhaps  the 
whole  race  is  blamed.  The  individual  criminal 
bird  does  his  work  stealthily  and  so  is  seldom 
observed.  "  The  view  that  certain  individuals 
among  birds  and  mammals  are  responsible  for 
most  of  the  unusual  depredations  on  other  birds 
and  mammals  is  held  by  many  observers." 21 


n 

HIS  INTELLIGENCE 


Adequately  to  treat  of  the  intelligence  of  birds,  a 
separate  volume  would  be  required. — ROMANES. 

It  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say  that  he  who  refuses  to 
credit  the  lower  animals  with  intelligence  raises  anxiety 
on  the  score  of  his  own.  —  BREHM. 

In  our  .  .  .  inability  to  grasp  and  analyze  sympa- 
thetically that  psychic  force  which  we  call  instinct,  what 
remains  for  us  but  to  judge  discreetly  and  proportion- 
ately the  mental  processes  of  our  little  brothers  ...  by 
the  rules  which  order  our  decisions  upon  the  operation 
of  the  human  mind  ? —  HENRY  C.  McCooK,  D.D.,  Sc.D., 
LL.D.,  in  Harper's  Monthly,  May,  1907. 

We  must  always  bear  in  mind  that  there  is  still  much 
to  learn  about  the  lives  of  even  those  birds  with  which 
we  are  most  familiar.  —  Dr.  GEORGE  HARLEY,  in  Sel- 
borne  Society  Papers. 


n 

HIS  INTELLIGENCE 

To  the  intelligence  of  birds  there  is  ample 
testimony.  In  fact,  in  approaching  the  subject 
one  is  embarrassed  by  the  mass  of  evidence 
which  has  been  pouring  in  since  men  began  to 
look  upon  the  feathered  world  as  something 
more  than  food  for  the  gun,  a  check  upon  the 
ravages  of  insects,  or  subjects  for  scientific 
investigation. 

The  evidences  that  the  lower  animals  are  en- 
dowed with  intellectual  faculties  are  too  many 
and  too  obvious  to  require  argument,  says  a 
modern  bird-student,  and  adds :  "  No  definition 
of  the  moral  faculties  of  man  can  be  formed 
that  will  not  include  the  faculties  in  the  lower 
animals." 

Dr.  George  Harley  declares  emphatically,  in 
one  of  the  publications  of  the  Selborne  Society 
of  London,  that  "  it  is,  I  believe,  true  that  our 
little  feathered  friends  in  many  cases  think, 
reason,  feel,  and  act  exactly  as  we  ourselves 
do." 


24  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

"Everything  one  says  or  thinks  one  hour  or 
day,"  says  Edmund  Selous,  "is  contradicted 
the  next.  There  is  little  or  no  uniformity  in 
the  actions  of  birds.  That  is  my  constant  ex- 

.  *•  no 

penence. 

It  is  surely  a  proof  of  intelligence  that  birds 
learn  by  experience  to  take  advantage  of 
changed  conditions  to  better  themselves.  Says 
Professor  Headley  :  "  To  learn  wisdom  by 
individual  experience  is  of  the  very  essence  of 


reason." 


The  crow,  as  we  all  know,  has  learned  much 
of  the  ways  of  mankind.  Hawks  have  discov- 
ered that  a  passing  engine  scares  up  their  prey, 
and  that  while  one  man  is  dangerous,  a  whole 
trainful  is  harmless.  So  hawks  in  some  places 
habitually  accompany  a  train,  one  of  a  pair  fly- 
ing on  each  side  of  the  engine,  and  pouncing 
upon  every  creature  that  is  thus  disturbed. 

The  same  is  true  of  another  bird,  as  testified 
to  by  an  English  observer  :  "  On  the  railroad  em- 
bankment you  will  see  shrikes  sitting  in  pairs 
at  stated  intervals,  watching  for  prey.  Trains 
do  not  frighten  them.  They  seem  to  under- 
stand that  the  rumble  and  shake  of  the  ground 
gives  them  food.  The  vibration  .  .  .  causes 


HIS  INTELLIGENCE  25 

the  insects  to  dart  from  their  shelters  and  then 
the  shrikes  are  busy.  So  well  known  has  it  be- 
come to  all  insect-feeding  birds  that  railway 
tracks  are  good  hunting-grounds,  that  it  is  now 
a  common  sight  to  see  rooks  perched  on  the 
telegraph-posts,  waiting  for  a  train  to  pass. 
The  moment  it  has  gone  by  they  dash  off  to 
feed.  Even  that  most  wary  bird  the  green 
woodpecker  will  hunt  along  the  line  at  certain 


seasons." 


Nor  are  our  American  birds  less  wide  awake. 
Mr.  Forbush  says  that  even  swallows,  who  seem 
to  be  the  least  observing  of  men's  doings 
of  any  bird,  have  learned  that  men  walk- 
ing through  the  grass  start  up  insects,  espe- 
cially one  which  destroys  immense  quantities 
of  meadow  grass,  and  in  one  place  at  least, 
habitually  follow  any  one  passing  through  the 
fields  to  pick  up  the  insects  thus  scared  up.  ^ 

We  are  all  familiar  with  the  changed  habits 
of  the  chimney  swifts,  who  long  ago  abandoned 
the  use  of  hollow  trees  for  their  homes  and 
resorted  to  the  chimneys  of  men,  and  now,  it 
is  said,  are  gradually  turning  to  barns  and 
sheds  for  their  building. 

It  is  not  perhaps  so  widely  known,  since  it 


26  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

is  a  somewhat  later  development,  that  wood- 
peckers are  making  discoveries  to  better  their 
conditions.  The  redhead  is  cultivating  the 
habit  of  a  fly-catcher,  and  has  become  expert 
in  securing  his  prey  from  the  air,  although  he 
is  plainly  built  for  the  more  difficult  labor  of 
digging  it  out  of  a  tree  trunk. 

The  golden-winged  woodpecker  has  dis- 
covered an  easier  way  to  prepare  a  nursery 
than  following  the  laborious  habit  of  his  an- 
cestors, the  modern  flicker  cutting  through  the 
softer  boards  of  our  buildings  and  finding  snug 
and  safe  quarters  within.  At  one  place  the 
turrets  of  a  Western  college  where  I  spent  a 
summer  were  occupied  by  flickers,  with  English 
sparrows  for  tenants.  How  they  managed  the 
domestic  arrangements  inside  I  could  not  dis- 
cover, but  both  birds  used  the  same  entrance, 
which  was  plainly  the  work  of  the  wood- 
pecker's pickaxe. 

This  bird  has  also  abandoned  the  ways  of 
his  fathers  in  the  matter  of  food,  and  now-a- 
days  finds  his  provisions,  or  a  large  part  of 
them,  around  the  ant-hills  on  the  ground.  As 
many  as  three  thousand  ant  skulls  have  been 
found  in  the  stomach  of  one  flicker. 26 


HIS  INTELLIGENCE  27 

Another  of  the  intelligent  family,  the  yellow- 
bellied  sapsucker,  gave  up  the  laborious  use  of 
the  pickaxe  in  food-hunting  so  long  ago  that 
he  has  lost  the  power  of  thrusting  his  tongue 
far  beyond  the  end  of  his  beak,  which  was  a 
necessity  in  the  life  of  his  ancestors.27 

Woodpeckers  are  not  the  only  birds  intelli- 
gent enough  to  take  advantage  of  opportuni- 
ties to  better  themselves.  At  a  certain  place 
on  the  coast  of  New  Jersey  where  seine  fishing 
is  common,  the  osprey  or  fish  hawk  has  dis- 
covered that  men — if  not  more  expert  than 
himself  at  his  own  trade — have  at  any  rate 
greater  success,  and  he  has  happily  accommo- 
dated himself  to  the  new  conditions  and  ac- 
cepted the  services  of  men  as  his  providence. 
When  the  time  comes  for  drawing  the  seine, 
fish  hawks  place  themselves  on  every  available 
point  of  vantage,  gathering  from  a  distance 
all  about,  watch  the  scene  with  interest,  and 
when  the  great  struggling  mass  is  drawn  up 
onto  the  land,  pounce  upon  the  tempting 
display  and  carry  off  their  catch  without  wet- 
ting a  feather.  They  are  not  indiscriminate 
fishers  either ;  they  select  the  morsel  they  de- 
sire, the  first  choice  being  the  tender  Spanish 


28  THE  BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

mackerel  (or  so  it  is  reported),  which  certainly 
shows  their  good  taste,  as  every  fish-lover  on 
the  coast  will  admit. 

More  extraordinary  still  is  the  degree  of 
intelligence  thus  stated  by  Professor  Headley. 
He  says:  "Pheasants  learn  by  experience  to 
distinguish  a  rifle  from  a  shot-gun.  The 
former  has  no  terrors  for  them,  and  they  will 
feed  quietly  while  the  bullets  pass  over  them. 
I  have  seen  the  same  complete  indifference  to 
the  noise  of  rifle-shooting  in  the  great  spotted 
woodpecker." 28 

Birds  are  not  obliged  to  do  as  their  parents 
do.  They  constantly  learn  by  experience  and 
alter  their  habits.  "  Most  birds,"  says  a  modern 
British  observer  and  writer,  "are  ready  to  vary 
their  habits  suddenly  and  de  novo  if  they  can 
get  a  little  profit  on  the  transaction."  29 

The  intelligence  of  the  jay  family  is  shown 
by  the  experience  of  a  naturalist  who  studied 
and  photographed  a  nest  of  Canada  jays  in 
the  West.  The  birds,  at  first  very  wild,  finding 
that  he  did  not  frighten  or  disturb  them,  be- 
came so  tame  that  the  female  would  doze  on 
the  nest  in  the  most  unconcerned  manner, 
when  he  was  near  enough  to  touch  her,  and 


HIS  INTELLIGENCE  29 

calmly  feed  her  nestlings  while  his  hand  rested 
on  the  nest. 30 

It  is  not  so  remarkable  that  game  birds, 
through  a  long  course  of  persecution  at  the 
hands  of  men,  should  develop  the  unusual  in- 
telligence which  is  exhibited  by  the  scaup 
ducks  in  Florida.  At  Titusville,  where  no 
shooting  is  allowed  along  the  water-front, 
"  wild  scaup  ducks  swim,  dive,  and  dress  their 
plumage  as  unconcernedly  along  the  wharves 
and  the  beach  at  the  hotel  as  if  there  were  not 
a  man  in  sight.  They  sometimes  come  ashore 
and  walk  about  on  the  grass  near  the  hotel. 
They  swim  at  ease  among  the  small  craft  at 
the  wharves,  and  act  much  like  domesticated 
ducks,  but  when  the  same  birds  get  out  on 
the  river  beyond  the  dead  line  where  gun- 
ning is  not  prohibited  they  can  hardly  be 
approached  within  gunshot  by  a  fast-sailing 
boat."31 

Mr.  Bolles  gives  an  interesting  account  of 
an  experiment  he  made  with  a  great  blue 
heron,  which  shows  that  the  bird  did  not  fear 
what  was  simply  strange,  but  that  which  he 
had  learned  by  experience  was  dangerous,  as 
indicating  the  vicinity  of  man.  After  observ- 


30  THE   BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

ing  him  as  long  as  he  cared  to,  Mr.  Bolles 
began  to  whistle  to  start  up  the  heron.  (I 
should  say  that  he  was  hidden,  but  quite 
near  the  bird.)  The  heron  stopped  dressing 
his  plumage  and  looked  towards  Mr.  Bolles's 
hiding-place  with  no  fear,  only  curiosity.  Mr. 
Bolles  sang,  but  the  bird  only  stared  without 
moving.  Then  he  tried  animal  sounds, — bark- 
ing, mewing,  etc.,  —  and  at  last  came  down 
to  plain  spoken  English,  supposing  of  course 
that  the  human  voice  would  alarm  him.  But 
the  bird  remained  in  composure,  evidently 
entertained  and  showing  no  desire  to  depart, 
till  suddenly,  in  moving  his  foot,  Mr.  Bolles 
snapped  a  small  twig,  when  like  a  shot  the 
heron  was  on  the  wing.32  That  sound  he  recog- 
nized, and  experience  had  taught  him  to  fear 
it  because  connected  with  the  presence  of 
man. 

We  have  long  been  familiar  with  the  fact 
that,  upon  the  discovery  of  uninhabited 
islands,  the  birds  making  their  homes  there 
meet  the  invaders  of  their  premises  in  the  most 
friendly  manner.  Experience,  however,  soon 
gives  them  better  knowledge  of  the  average 
man,  for  the  stories  of  the  brutality  with  which 


HIS  INTELLIGENCE  31 

these  confiding  advances  are  usually  met  is 
enough  to  discourage  one's  faith  in  humanity. 
Dr.  Harley  gives  an  interesting  account 
of  birds  learning  by  experience  the  opposite 
lesson  of  confidence.  "An  instance  of  the 
confidence  our  native  wild  birds  may  be  led 
to  repose  in  man  I  witnessed  at  Walton  Hall 
in  Yorkshire  when  during  the  winter  time 
I  visited  its  squire,  the  well-known  Charles 
Waterton.  .  .  .  Mr.  Waterton  was  such  a 
lover  of  the  feathered  tribe  he  never  allowed 
a  gun  to  be  fired  in  his  deer  park,  or. any 
of  the  birds  inhabiting  it  to  be  otherwise 
disturbed.  The  result  was  that  during  the 
inclement  winter  weather  the  twenty-five  acre 
sized  lake  in  it  was  crowded  with  all  imagin- 
able varieties  of  our  native  water-fowl,  and  so 
friendly  were  they  that  they  .  .  .  permitted 
Mr.  Waterton  and  his  visitors,  me  among  the 
rest,  to  walk  close  up  and  to  stand  beside 
them.  Yet  these  very  same  birds  when  out- 
side of  the  walls  of  the  domain  would  not 
allow  any  human  being  whatever  to  come  so 
much  as  within  gun-shot  of  them  if  they 
could  possibly  prevent  it."  And  again  the 
same  writer  says :  "  Captain  Doughty  of 


32  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

H.  M.  S.  Constance  tells  me  that  ...  on  sev- 
eral islands  of  the  Southern  Ocean  he  found 
the  tropical  birds  so  little  fearful  of  man's  ap- 
proach that  he  had  not  only  walked  up  close 
to  them  while  they  were  sitting  upon  their 
nests,  but  actually  extracted  from  their  tails 
the  beautiful  scarlet  feathers  without  the 
birds  manifesting  the  slightest  sign  of  fear. 
Indeed  all  the  notice  they  took  of  the  pro- 
cedure was  to  express  their  disapprobation 
of  the  act  by  turning  their  heads  around 
and  pecking  at  his  hands  while  he  pulled  the 
feathers  out.  On  no  single  occasion  did  they 
attempt  to  fly  or  even  so  much  as  to  leave 
the  nest."  * 

An  interesting  story  of  a  bluebird's  learning 
by  experience  was  told  me  by  a  long-time  stu- 
dent of  bird-life  in  captivity  in  an  aviary.  She 
was  the  very  efficient  secretary  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania Audubon  Society,  and  her  truthful- 
ness and  correctness  of  observation  are  above 
suspicion. 

She  had  two  bluebirds,  the  male  a  cage- 
made  cripple,  incapable  of  freedom,  but  cheer- 
ful and  contented  in  captivity,  the  female  with 
wing-feathers  injured  so  that  she  could  not 


HIS  INTELLIGENCE  33 

fly.  The  two  were  kept  in  a  cage  together. 
They  did  not  quarrel,  but  neither  did  they 
take  much  notice  of  each  other,  being  appar- 
ently perfectly  indifferent.  After  some  weeks 
the  female  moulted  and  came  out  in  perfect 
plumage,  upon  which  the  cage  door  was 
opened  for  her  that  she  might  have  her  free- 
dom. According  to  the  writers  on  caging 
birds,  who  usually  know  nothing  about  such 
cage  life  as  this  lady  provided  for  her  captives, 
the  one  thing  for  which  all  caged  birds  pine 
is  freedom,  and  naturally  they  would  suppose 
this  bluebird  would  accept  hers  with  delight. 
(Lest  I  be  misunderstood,  let  me  here  make 
my  oft-repeated  statement,  that  I  do  not  ap- 
prove of  caging  wild  birds,  that  I  never  had 
a  bird  caught  nor  a  nest  disturbed  for  my 
study;  but  when  birds  are  injured,  or  born 
in  a  cage,  as  the  canary,  or  have  been  so 
long  in  captivity  that  they  seem  unable  to 
take  care  of  themselves,  I  think  the  kindest 
thing  one  can  do  is  to  make  them  so  happy  in 
captivity  that  they  do  not  care  for  freedom, 
having  learned  the  comforts  of  protection, 
shelter,  and  an  unfailing  food  supply;  and 
this  can  be  done  by  one  willing  to  take  the 


34  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

trouble.  Nothing  is  more  cruel  than  to  force 
freedom  upon  a  canary,  which  is  often  lauded 
as  a  righteous  act, — a  bird  born  in  a  cage, 
of  caged  ancestors,  who  knows  nothing  of 
outside  life  or  of  caring  for  itself.  It  is  simply 
dooming  the  pet  to  a  speedy  death.) 

Now  let  me  resume  my  story.  The  captive 
bluebird  did  not  hurry  out  upon  this  invita- 
tion, but  after  a  while,  almost  as  if  acciden- 
tally, she  stepped  out  of  the  door,  and,  after 
looking  calmly  around,  flew  into  the  garden, 
and  finally  disappeared.  Her  cage-mate  then 
first  showed  concern.  He  began  to  call,  and 
seemed  so  unhappy  that  his  kind-hearted  mis- 
tress was  greatly  disturbed. 

A  whole  day  went  by,  and  the  next  after- 
noon the  mistress  was  called  to  see  a  strange 
sight,  —  a  bluebird  trying  to  get  into  the 
cage,  while  the  bird  within  was  wild  with  ex- 
citement, and  calling  in  the  sweetest  tones. 

She  hurried  to  the  spot  and  found  the 
wanderer  trying  to  squeeze  herself  between 
the  bars  of  the  cage.  The  door  was  thrown 
open  at  once,  and  instantly  the  returned  bird 
flew  in,  jumped  upon  a  perch,  and  fell  to  a 
vigorous  dressing  of  plumage.  Then  followed 


HIS  INTELLIGENCE  35 

a  great  chattering.  "  Nothing  could  be  fun- 
nier/' says  the  amused  observer,  "than  her 
air  of  telling  what  a  horrid  thing  it  was  to  be 
free.  She  ate  and  drank,  and  seemed  utterly 
content."  M 

Many  instances  could  be  given  of  birds  re- 
turning to  their  cages  after  being  set  free, 
having  learned  to  appreciate  the  comforts  of 
warmth,  protection,  and  plentiful  food  supply. 

An  English  lady  with  whom  I  have  corre- 
sponded has  tamed  many  birds  by  taking  them 
from  the  nest  and  keeping  them  till  well 
grown,  then  opening  window  and  doors  to 
them,  while  still  having  always  a  supply  of 
food  ready  for  them.  Thus  she  has  on  her 
grounds  a  colony  of  birds,  who,  while  living 
and  nesting  outside,  come  freely  into  her 
house  for  dainties  from  her  hand  or  to  sing 
to  her.35 

Mr.  Robert  Ridgway  told  me  of  a  bird- 
lover  in  Florida  who  would  not  let  birds  be 
annoyed  on  his  place,  with  the  result  that  they 
became  very  tame.  Cardinal  grosbeaks,  who 
are  naturally  shy  and  wild  in  confinement,  be- 
came so  familiar  that  they  would  take  food 
from  his  hand. 


36  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

From  a  lady  in  Michigan  I  have  this  inter- 
esting story  of  a  robin  who  nested  on  her 
place  four  years.  She  was  sure  it  was  the  same 
bird  all  the  time,  if  not  the  same  pair,  for  they 
acted  exactly  in  the  same  way  every  season 
on  their  return  from  the  South,  showing  per- 
fect familiarity  with  the  place  and  all  surround- 
ings at  the  first  moment  of  their  arrival.  They 
were  not  at  all  afraid  of  the  family,  though 
very  shy  of  strangers.  Any  one  of  the  house- 
hold could  take  up  a  young  robin  —  when 
after  the  manner  of  robins  it  had  come  to  the 
ground  and  seemed  to  lack  courage  or  strength 
to  return  to  a  safer  place — and  replace  it  on 
a  branch,  and  no  notice  would  be  taken  by 
the  elders. 

One  day  a  man  passing  by  picked  up  from 
the  ground  a  young  one,  on  which  the  parents 
made  great  outcry,  and  the  whole  robin  popu- 
lation of  the  neighborhood  came  to  the  rescue, 
scolding,  crying,  and  flying  at  the  thief.  One 
of  the  family  hurried  out  and  claimed  the  bird 
as  a  "  tame  one/'  when  the  man  gave  it  up  to 
her. 

Instantly  the  clamor  ceased ;  neighbors  re- 
turned to  their  own  domestic  affairs,  and  the 


HIS  INTELLIGENCE  37 

parents  resumed  the  feeding  business,  pay- 
ing no  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  young- 
ster was  still  in  the  hands  of  a  human  being. 
It  was  curious  that  the  robins  of  the  neigh- 
borhood seemed  also  fully  to  understand  that 
the  infant  was  safe.36 

In  countries  where  people  are  gentle  and 
friendly  with  birds  instead  of  persecuting 
them,  they  become  very  tame.  Mr.  Lafcadio 
Hearn,  in  his  writings  about  Japan,  says  that 
the  fearlessness  of  wild  creatures  is  one  of  the 
most  charming  things  about  the  remote  parts 
of  Japan  "yet  unvisited  by  tourists  with  shot- 
guns."37 Travelers  who  visit  Norway  tell  us 
that  birds,  never  being  disturbed,  come  freely 
about  the  houses,  and  when  it  is  cold  they 
even  come  inside  for  food  and  warmth,  and 
no  one  thinks  of  interfering  with  their  com- 
fort or  their  freedom. 

The  ingenuity  of  birds  in  overcoming  dif- 
ficulties or  meeting  accidents  affords  strong 
proof  of  intelligence.  Many  cases  are  on  rec- 
ord of  damages  to  nests  repaired  in  strange 
and  unusual  ways,  by  putting  additional  stays 
to  a  stronger  limb,  drawing  other  twigs  close 
about  the  nest  and  fastening  them  there ;  and 


38  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

perhaps  more  striking  was  the  way  adopted 
by  some  swallows  o£  treating  a  usurper  who 
stole  into  the  nest  and  would  not  be  dislodged, 
collecting  a  flock  of  their  neighbors,  each 
bringing  a  beakf  ul  of  mud,  walling  up  the 
thief,  and  leaving  him  to  perish. 

Mrs.  Treat  tells  the  story  of  a  pair  of  blue- 
birds who  nested  on  her  place  one  summer. 
When  the  second  brood  was  hatched,  the 
English  sparrows  annoyed  the  parent  blue- 
birds exceedingly  by  going  to  the  box  and 
looking  in,  even  having  the  audacity  to  attempt 
to  feed  the  young  bluebirds.  In  this  dilemma, 
the  birds  called  together  their  first  brood,  — 
elder  brothers  and  sisters  who  had  been  gone 
for  weeks  and  were  by  this  time  as  large  as 
the  parents.  These  young  birds  kept  guard 
while  the  elders  were  away  in  search  of  food, 
for  several  days ;  the  house  was  scarcely  left 
for  a  moment.  One  of  the  family  was  con- 
stantly present  to  dart  at  the  sparrows  when- 
ever they  made  an  attempt  to  come  near,  until 
the  young  left  the  nest.38 

The  storing  of  food,  as  well  as  the  discovery 
of  a  new  food,  is  an  evidence  of  learning  by 
experience ;  indeed  the  importance  of  the  food 


HIS  INTELLIGENCE  39 

supply  develops  the  intelligence  perhaps  more 
than  anything  else. 

The  favorite  word  "  instinct,"  the  shib- 
boleth of  many  writers,  does  not  explain  all 
the  facts  in  the  following  case,  for  not  all  the 
species  have  the  habit  mentioned,  though  all 
must  have  instinct.  In  Florida,  the  red-bellied 
woodpecker  has  earned  the  name  of  orange- 
borer  because  a  few  of  them  have  learned  to 
get  at  the  delectable  sweets  of  that  fruit,  here- 
tofore securely  hidden  from  the  tongues  of  our 
little  brothers.  Once  having  acquired  the  taste, 
however,  their  sharp  beaks  will  open  a  new 
world  of  enjoyment  to  them.  At  present,  even 
where  the  birds  are  abundant,  only  a  few  have 
acquired  the  habit,  which  is  quite  a  recent 
one.39 

A  species  of  crow  in  India,  says  Houssay, 
knows  what  is  meant  by  a  thread  of  smoke ; 
it  means  a  Hindu  family  cooking,  since  no  fire 
is  needed  for  anything  else  in  that  hot  country. 
So  when  a  crow  sees  smoke,  he  summons  some 
of  his  fellows,  and  they  proceed  to  the  fire. 
The  Hindu  is  accustomed  to  throw  outside  all 
food  left  from  the  meal,  and  this  the  birds 
have  learned  to  expect.4 


40 


40  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

Some  red-headed  woodpeckers  in  South  Da- 
kota, preferring  their  meat  fresh,  evolved  a 
way  to  keep  it  so  which  compares  favorably 
with  the  "cold  storage"  of  man.  One  bird 
stored  nearly  one  hundred  grasshoppers  in  a 
long  crack  in  a  post.  All  were  living  when 
discovered,  but  so  tightly  wedged  that  they 
could  not  escape,  and  during  the  long  winter  of 
that  region  it  is  to  be  presumed  the  prudent 
bird  had  his  provision.  The  observer  found 
other  places  of  storage  full  of  grasshoppers, 
and  discovered  that  the  red-heads  lived  upon 
them  nearly  all  winter.  It  has  been  found  that 
in  Indiana  beechnuts  are  prudently  gathered 
by  these  woodpeckers  and  stored  for  the  in- 
clement season.41 

No  assurance  of  the  intelligence  of  the  crow 
family  is  necessary  at  this  late  day.  Some 
writers,  indeed,  maintain  that  they  surpass  all 
other  birds  in  brain  development.  This  story 
Major  Bendire  relates  as  coming  under  his 
own  observation :  — 

The  Major  had  a  fine  setter  dog  who  was 
accustomed  to  take  his  daily  bone,  with  due 
allowance  of  meat  adhering,  to  the  lawn  to 
enjoy  at  his  leisure.  On  one  occasion  the 


HIS  INTELLIGENCE  41 

Major  observed  several  magpies  planning  to 
get  a  share  of  the  dainty.  They  quietly  ap- 
proached the  dog  and  placed  themselves  one 
at  the  head,  about  two  feet  from  the  animal, 
who  was  too  busy  to  notice  them,  a  second 
near  the  tail,  and  one  or  two  by  his  side.  When 
all  were  placed,  the  bird  near  the  dog's  tail 
gave  a  sudden  nip  to  that  member.  The  dog, 
of  course,  wheeled  to  catch  the  offender,  who 
fled,  while  his  hungry  comrades  rushed  to  the 
bone,  hastily  snatching  what  they  could.  The 
fleeing  bird  led  the  outraged  dog  to  some  dis- 
tance, drawing  him  on  by  fluttering  as  if  in- 
jured, without  really  taking  flight. 

When  the  animal  gave  up  the  chase,  per- 
haps remembering  his  dinner,  the  feasting 
magpies  quietly  withdrew,  till  he  was  again 
absorbed  in  eating,  and  then  repeated  the 
manoauvre,  arranging  themselves  differently, 
as  the  Major  could  tell  by  differences  in  size 
and  plumage,  such  as  length  of  tail,  injury  to 
some  feather,  etc.  The  bird  who  had  officiated 
as  the  tempter  to  draw  the  dog  away  so  that 
his  fellow  conspirators  might  enjoy  the  food 
now  took  his  stand  at  the  head  of  the  enemy, 
and  was  first  at  the  feast  when  one  of  his  fel- 


42  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

lows  had  a  second  time  beguiled  the  animal 
into  a  chase.  This  little  drama  was  enacted 
several  times,  to  the  surprise  as  well  as  the 
amusement  of  the  observing  Major.42 

Instances  of  learning  by  experience  that 
will  occur  to  keepers  of  birds  in  semi-freedom 
in  a  house  are  innumerable,  such  as  a  bird 
finding  his  water  dish  empty,  going  with  great 
demonstration  to  it,  pretending  to  drink,  and 
then  looking  up  with  great  significance  to  his 
provider,  a  thing  which  has  often  happened 
in  my  bird-room  and  has  been  remarked  by 
others  also. 

And,  again,  the  way  a  parrot  solved  a  prob- 
lem shows  something  beyond  instinct,  and  is 
vouched  for  by  the  lady  who  owned  the  bird 
and  told  me  the  story.  The  bird  had  two  play- 
things of  which  he  was  very  fond,  an  ivory 
ring  and  one  of  his  own  dropped  feathers. 
Wishing  to  get  down  a  flight  of  stairs,  and 
to  carry  both  of  these  treasures,  which  he 
could  not  do  at  once,  the  bird  dropped  one  of 
them  down  one  step,  then  the  other  likewise, 
then  hopped  down  himself,  repeating  this  per- 
formance till  he  reached  the  next  story. 

Many  evidences  of  intelligence  would  be 


HIS  INTELLIGENCE  43 

set  down  as  instinct,  such  as  the  fact,  related 
by  Mr.  Muir  and  also  mentioned  by  Major 
Bendire,  that  in  years  in  California  when  rain- 
fall is  insufficient  to  secure  a  good  food  sup- 
ply, quails,  "  prudently  considering  the  hard 
times,"  abandon  all  thoughts  of  pairing  and 
continue  in  flocks  all  the  year,  not  attempting 
to  rear  young.43 

What  is  it  but  intelligence  that  teaches 
birds  that  the  observation  of  human  beings 
is  dangerous  to  them,  and  shows  them  in- 
stantly whether  or  not  a  man  is  observing 
them?  Every  student  of  living  birds  must 
know  this  is  a  fact,  but  let  us  have  the  testi- 
mony of  a  famous  student,  first  asserting  that 
American  birds  are  not  a  whit  less  knowing 
than  their  brethren  across  the  water. 

"  Walk  across  a  meadow,"  says  this  delight- 
ful writer,  "  swinging  a  stick,  even  humming, 
and  the  rooks  calmly  continue  their  search  for 
grubs  within  thirty  yards;  stop  to  look  at 
them,  and  they  rise  on  the  wing  directly.  So, 
too,  the  finches  in  the  trees  by  the  roadside. 
Let  the  wayfarer  pass  beneath  the  bough  on 
which  they  are  singing,  and  they  will  sing  on, 
if  he  moves  without  apparent  interest;  should 


44  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 


he  pause  to  listen,  their  wings  glisten  in  the 
sun  as  they  fly."  ** 

In  my  many  years'  study  of  the  ways  of 
birds  I  have  often  noticed  the  same  thing.  I 
have  seen  birds  go  on  with  nest-building,  even 
with  feeding  and  other  birdy  occupations  in 
perfect  freedom,  coming  and  going  freely, 
chatting  together,  and  singing  as  calmly  as  if 
no  human  beings  were  near,  almost  within 
touch  of  a  party  of  loungers  on  a  piazza,  or 
of  a  constant  stream  of  passers-by,  while  the 
direction  of  attention  to  them,  or  the  pausing 
a  moment  to  look  at  them,  sent  them  off  on 
the  instant  in  a  panic. 

"  The  most  rational  kind  of  pleasure  experi- 
enced by  the  ornithologist  in  studying  habits 
and  disposition,"  says  Hudson,  "  no  doubt  re- 
sults in  a  great  measure  from  the  fact  that  the 
actions  of  the  feathered  people  have  a  savor 
of  intelligence  in  them.  Whatever  his  theory 
or  conviction  about  the  origin  of  instincts  may 
happen  to  be,  ...  it  must  seem  plain  to  him 
that  intelligence  is  in  most  cases  the  guiding 
principle  of  life,  supplementing  and  modifying 
habits  to  bring  them  into  closer  harmony  with 
the  environment  and  enlivening  every  day 


HIS  INTELLIGENCE  45 

with  countless  little  acts  which  result  from 
judgment  and  experience,  and  form  no  part 
of  the  inherited  complex  instincts."  ^ 

Instances  of  intelligent  actions  and  the 
opinions  of  capable  observers  could  be  multi- 
plied almost  indefinitely,  but  I  will  conclude 
the  subject  with  two  or  three  more  corrobo- 
rative quotations. 

Says  Professor  Shaler : "  Accustomed  as  they 
are  to  ceaseless  intercourse  with  each  other  by 
means  of  their  varied  calls,  largely  endowed 
with  the  faculty  of  attention,  and  provided 
with  fairly  retentive  memories,  birds  are,  on 
the  average,  nearer  in  the  qualities  of  their  in- 
telligence to  man  than  are  many  of  the  species 
in  his  own  class." 46 

And  from  Dr.  McCook,  the  lifelong  student 
of  insect  life:  "When  we  see  such  striking 
resemblances  between  the  conduct  of  social 
ants  and  that  of  men,  is  it  unreasonable  to 
suppose  therefor  some  small  degree  of  like- 
ness in  psychic  origin?  Or,  is  it  required,  in 
order  to  support  the  dignity  and  superiority 
of  man,  that  we  should  deny  to  insects  upon 
their  vastly  narrower  sphere  of  activity,  any- 
thing like  analogous  psychic  impulses  ?  " 47 


46  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

And  lastly  Sir  Edwin  Arnold :  "  The  posses- 
sion of  gifts  so  clearly  akin  to  human  feelings, 
duties,  and  virtues  ought  to  render  animals 
dearer  and  more  sacred  to  us  than  they  are.  I 
doubt  whether  we  have  the  right,  knowing  all 
we  know,  ...  to  treat  these  living,  sentient 
beings  as  if  they  were  automatic  property 
without  rights  or  relationship  to  ourselves."  ** 


Ill 

HIS  LANGUAGE 


The  language  of  a  wild  bird  is  as  necessary  to  him  as 
the  language  of  a  wild  man  is  to  him.  —  CHARLES  A. 
WITCHELL,  The  Evolution  of  Bird-Song. 

The  varieties  of  bird-speech  and  the  possibilities  of 
interchange  of  ideas  are  very  great.  —  C.  J.  CORNISH, 
Animals  of  To-day. 

The  evil  success  with  which  poachers  can  imitate  the 
cries  of  love  and  defiance  of  denizens  of  the  woodlands 
proves  that  its  inhabitants  possess  a  vocabulary  which 
can  be  stolen.  —  A  Writer  in  the  London  Telegraph. 


Ill 

HIS  LANGUAGE 

"  To  know  the  sense  the  words  impart/'  says 
our  clear-headed  poet  Emerson,  "you  must 
bring  the  throbbing  heart."  In  no  study  of 
nature  is  the  throbbing  heart  —  the  love  and 
sympathy — more  important  than  in  the  study 
of  birds. 

Some  students  of  the  bodies  of  birds,  their 
anatomy  and  classification,  who  never  leave 
a  bird  alive  long  enough  to  see  anything 
of  its  characteristics,  have  asserted  that  the 
students  of  living  birds  interpret  their  actions 
unfairly,  —  humanize  them,  they  say, — and 
have  consequently  set  them  down  as  unworthy 
of  belief. 

Conscientious  students  of  life  learn  to  be 
less  dogmatic  in  their  opinions.  The  deeper 
they  study  into  the  mysteries  constantly  pre- 
sented to  them,  the  more  they  appreciate  their 
ignorance,  and  the  more  modest  they  become 
in  settling  the  problems  that  open  before 
them.  Those  who  really  know  birds  alive  and 


50  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

free  are  amazed  at  the  resemblance  between 
their  characteristics  and  our  own,  at  what, 
indeed,  we  may  call  their  "  human  nature." 

Birds,  as  every  close  observer  will  testify, 
utter  many  low,  disconnected  notes  which,  for 
want  of  another  term,  we  must  call  talk.  It 
is  not  assumed  that  they  have  an  articulate 
language,  nor  that  they  converse  as  we  under- 
stand the  term,  but  they  are  certainly  able 
to  communicate  with  their  fellows  by  means 
of  these  conversational-sounding  utterances. 
When,  therefore,  I  use  the  terms  "  talk  "  and 
"conversation"  I  wish  to  be  understood  as 
referring  to  those  as  yet  unexplained  sounds, 
and  not  to  birds  taught  words  of  our  lan- 
guage, as  parrots,  cockatoos,  and  others. 

Spring  is  the  time  to  study  the  language  of 
birds,  for  in  that  season  of  love-making  and 
nursery  duties  all  the  varied  emotions  of  their 
lives  are  called  out.  Unlike  the  rest  of  the 
year,  they  are  bound  to  one  place ;  they  can- 
not fly  from  unpleasantnesses ;  they  must  stay 
and  meet  them.  The  importance  of  selecting 
safe  places  for  nesting,  the  constant  watch 
for  enemies,  the  many  dangers  that  threaten, 
make  these  anxious  days,  and  bring  out  char- 


HIS  LANGUAGE  51 

acteristics  seen  at  no  other  time.  When  sitting 
is  over,  there  is  a  nursery  full  of  helpless  nest- 
lings to  rear,  to  protect  from  accidents,  to  pro- 
vide with  food,  to  instruct  in  the  path  of  life. 
All  these  make  spring  the  most  serious  and 
eventful,  as  well  as  the  most  interesting,  sea- 
son in  their  lives. 

At  this  time  the  conversational  abilities  of 
our  little  brothers  are  in  full  play,  and  they  are 
far  greater  than  is  usually  supposed.  Besides 
the  well-known  calls  and  songs  which  every  one 
may  hear,  there  are  many  low  notes  with  the 
mate  and  the  young  that  are  heard  by  a  sym- 
pathetic bird-lover  alone,  which  almost  force 
him  to  the  conclusion  that  they  are  exchanges 
of  sentiment  —  talk,  in  fact.  No  one  who  has 
closely  studied  individual  birds  at  this  period 
in  their  lives  can  doubt  that  they  have  some 
sort  of  language. 

For  what  are  the  voices  of  birds  — 

Ay,  and  of  beasts,  —  but  words,  our  words, 

Only  so  much  more  sweet  ? 

says  Browning. 

One  need  only  sit  quietly  and  unobserved 
in  some  good  birdy  place,  and  listen  patiently 
to  the  many  odd  little  sounds,  the  conversa- 


52  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

tional  utterances,  the  squeaky  notes  of  nest- 
lings, the  reproving  or  reassuring  or  admoni- 
tory tones  of  the  grown-ups,  the  quite  different 
notes  of  elders  between  themselves,  all  in 
undertones  and  by  no  means  meant  for  the 
world  at  large,  to  be  sure  that  some  sort  of 
communication  is  going  on,  that  it  is  a  family 
scene  one  is  overhearing,  and  to  feel  like  an 
eavesdropper.  Let  him  move  or  show  himself, 
and  note  the  instant  change  from  all  intimate 
family  life  to  the  putting  on  of  "  company 
manners."  Such  experiences  I  have  often 
enjoyed  behind  the  blinds  of  a  lonely  farm- 
house, or  in  a  carefully  arranged  nook  under 
low  trees  or  among  bushes,  having  quietly 
established  myself  while  the  birds  were  away. 
One  such  incident  comes  to  my  mind.  Sit- 
ting behind  the  blinds  of  my  farmhouse 
window,  I  was  attracted  by  a  curious  succes- 
sion of  notes  in  the  voice  of  a  phcebe,  but 
very  low.  That  of  itself  was  interesting,  even 
noteworthy,  for  that  bird  is  not  usually  garru- 
lous. The  notes  sounded  conversational,  and 
were  almost  continuous,  while  at  every  pause, 
another  voice  uttered  a  single  note  in  a  quer- 
ulous, complaining  tone.  Cautiously  looking 


HIS  LANGUAGE  53 

out,  I  discovered  on  a  leafless  sapling  near 
my  window  the  two  birds,  an  adult  phoabe 
and  a  young  one  apparently  lately  out  of  the 
nest.  The  elder  kept  up  a  running  talk,  oc- 
casionally darting  out  after  a  passing  insect, 
which  —  I  was  surprised  and  amused  to  see 
—  she  carried  to  the  little  tree,  and,  after  the 
youngster  had  seen  it  and  opened  its  mouth 
to  receive  it,  she  swallowed  herself!  upon 
which  the  youth  uttered  a  wailing  cry.  Then 
would  come  another  long  talk  and  at  every 
pause  a  complaining  note  from  the  infant. 
Several  times  these  performances  were  re- 
peated. Then  the  elder  flew  away,  when  at 
once  the  little  one  began  to  look  out  for  him- 
self, actually  flying  out,  and  once  or  twice 
while  I  looked  succeeding  in  securing  his  prey. 
Could  anything  be  plainer  ?  He  was  receiv- 
ing instruction  in  the  art  by  which  he  was  to 
get  his  living,  and  if  the  peculiar  notes  of  the 
parent  and  the  querulous  ones  of  the  young 
were  not  some  sort  of  communication  between 
them,  they  looked  remarkably  like  it.  Until 
one  has  enjoyed  such  glimpses  into  the  pri- 
vate life  of  birds,  he  cannot  appreciate  that 
side  of  them. 


54  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

Some  slight  advance  has  been  made  in 
understanding  the  language  of  those  unwel- 
come neighbors  of  ours  the  English  sparrows. 
A  writer  who  had  a  pet  of  this  race  in  a 
cage  hanging  in  a  window  made  a  study  of 
his  talk  with  the  wild  sparrows  outside,  inter- 
preting it  as  well  by  his  actions.  In  this  way 
he  claims  to  have  learned  eleven  different  ex- 
pressions, such  as  inviting  other  sparrows  to 
approach,  welcoming  them,  urging  them  to  re- 
main ;  and,  with  his  human  neighbors,  a  great 
desire  for  anything,  coaxing,  surprise,  alarm, 
scolding,  anger,  satisfaction,  and  delight, — 
this  last  when  a  fly  was  presented  to  him. 

"A  practical  acquaintance  with  shore  shoot- 
ing and  the  men  who  have  learnt  to  imitate 
the  notes  of  shore  birds,"  says  Mr.  Cornish, 
"  discloses  some  curious  facts  as  to  the  minute 
differences  between  the  '  talk'  of  different  spe- 
cies. The  greater  number  have  a  particular 
note  which  signifies  '  Come.'  "  By  imitating 
his  peculiar  note,  the  gunner  can  draw  down 
a  bird  of  any  species  desired  from  among 
those  of  another  kind.49 

A  gunner  of  whom  Mr.  Cornish  writes  saw 
two  or  three  golden  plover  in  a  large  mixed 


HIS  LANGUAGE  55 

flock  of  birds  and  gave  the  golden  plover  call, 
when  out  of  the  flock  of  some  sixty  birds  the 
pair  of  golden  plover  instantly  wheeled  and 
passed  close  by,  answering  the  call  in  their  own 
language.  And  again,  he  relates  another  inci- 
dent: "Perhaps  the  best  instance  of  a  man 
speaking  bird  language  is  a  fowler  who  shot 
the  only  specimen  of  the  broad-billed  sand- 
piper ever  killed  in  Norfolk.  He  was  listening 
to  the  notes  of  the  shore  birds  and  noticed 
one  which  he  did  not  know.  He  imitated  it, 
the  bird  answered,  flew  up  to  him  and  was 
shot."  » 

"The  blue  jay,"  says  Dr.  Coues,  "when 
hopping  aimlessly  about  or  peering  cautiously 
down  to  watch  a  suspicious  character,  talks  to 
himself  in  a  queer  way,  as  if  thinking  aloud 
and  chuckling  over  some  comical  notion  of  his 


own." 


Dr.  George  Harley,  quoted  in  a  preceding 
chapter,  by  close  study  of  individual  birds 
reached  this  conclusion:  "that  birds  possess 
an  intelligible  language  in  which  they  can 
communicate  their  ideas  to  each  other,  and 
that  a  bird  can  persuade  another  bird  to  fol- 
low a  particular  line  of  action." 51 


56  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

The  American  crossbill  is  one  of  the  most 
social  of  birds ;  a  party  of  them  are  constantly 
talking  together.  Even  the  demure  bluebird 
can  talk  on  occasion.  I  have  not  only  listened 
to  much  talk  about  the  nest,  but  I  have  heard 
one  engaged  in  disputing  possession  of  a  par- 
ticularly desirable  feeding-ground  pour  out, 
between  furious  encounters  with  the  enemy, 
a  constant  torrent  of  low  conversational  notes. 

The  common  chickadee  is  overflowing  with 
chatty  talk  very  different  from  his  call  and  his 
song.  I  have  heard  one  give  a  long  harangue, 
to  which  his  comrades  listened  in  silence  and  on 
its  conclusion  broke  out  into  a  storm  of  simi- 
lar notes  themselves.  Sea-birds  who  congregate 
in  vast  colonies  are  notorious  for  the  chatter 
they  keep  up.  And  who  can  doubt  that  the 
common  crow  is  able  to  communicate  his 
emotions,  and  more,  his  plans,  to  his  fel- 
lows. 

Says  a  late  English  writer  who  is  a  close  ob- 
server, speaking  of  rooks,  who  are  related  to 
our  crows  :  "  One  feels  that  every  note  uttered 
by  rooks  is  expressive ;  there  are  sounds  which 
just  miss  being  articulate  and  just  evade  one's 
efforts  to  write  them  down."  After  giving  a 


HIS  LANGUAGE  57 

list  of  more  than  thirty  distinct  notes  he  had 
marked,  he  says :  "  It  is  but  a  small  page  out 
of  the  vocabulary,  but  it  may  perhaps  serve  to 
draw  attention  to  the  great  powers  of  modula- 
tion and  inflection  which  these  birds  possess. 
To  me  it  has  often  seemed  as  though  these 
birds  were  really  in  process  of  evolving  a  Ian- 
guage."*2 

No  one  will  question  the  assertion  that  birds 
can  scold.  Orioles  are  the  most  proficient  in 
this  accomplishment  of  any  birds  I  know, 
especially  the  orchard  oriole,  who  can  hardly 
deliver  his  sweet  song  without  the  interpola- 
tion of  scolding  notes.  The  world  seems  to  be 
all  wrong  with  this  fellow  mortal ;  even  his 
wooing  is  a  rather  savage  affair  and  conducted 
with  many  hard  words.  His  little  mate  has 
plainly  learned  how  to  manage  her  domineer- 
ing partner,  for  in  the  cases  of  the  several  I 
have  known  she  never  "  talks  back  "  but  goes 
quietly  on  and  has  her  own  way  in  spite  of 
his  blustering. 

"  Birds  have  almost  invented  a  language," 
says  Professor  W.  Warde  Fowler.  "Their 
voices  are  not  really  inarticulate.  Each  species 
has  its  own  tongue,  in  which  the  sexes  dally 


58  THE   BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

and   converse   and   communicate   with   each 
other."  53 

Maurice  Thompson  adds  his  testimony : 
"All  our  birds  use  what  we  call  their  voices, 
just  as  we  use  ours,  for  the  purposes  of  ex- 
pression generally."  M 

John  Burroughs  also  is  quoted  by  Mrs. 
Wright  as  saying  :  "  Birds  have  a  language 
which  is  very  expressive  and  easily  translated 
into  the  human  tongue." 

"  If  ever  birds  talk  together,  starlings  do," 
says  Richard  Jefferies.  "  Many  birds  utter  the 
same  notes  over  and  over  again ;  others  sit 
on  a  branch  and  sing  the  same  song :  but  the 
starling  has  a  whole  syllabary  of  his  own,  every 
note  of  which  evidently  has  its  meaning  and 
can  be  varied  and  accented  at  pleasure." 55 

"  The  notes  of  the  raven  are  extremely  va- 
ried," says  Turner,  "  to  express  surprise,  dan- 
ger, satisfaction,  or  nearly  anything  else,  as 
they  convey  much  by  their  note.  Two  will  get 
close  together  in  early  spring  and  talk  to  each 
other  for  half  an  hour." 56 

"  And  then  the  English  sparrow,"  says  Dr. 
Van  Dyke.  "What  an  insufferable  chatter- 
box! I  am  convinced  that  he  talks  altogether 


HIS  LANGUAGE  59 

of  scandals  and  fights  and  street-sweepings." 
If  we  put  this  opinion  of  the  genial  doctor 
down  to  poetic  fancy,  we  certainly  cannot  so 
class  the  serious  statement  of  Professor  Shaler 
of  Harvard  University.  Our  common  fowls, 
he  says,  "are  in  constant  and  effective  com- 
munication with  one  another."  And  again: 
"So  nice  and  well  understood  are  the  differ- 
ences between  the  sounds  which  these  birds 
give  forth,  and  so  well  are  their  notes  appre- 
ciated by  their  companions,  that  the  creatures 
may  well  be  said  to  have  a  language.  Though 
it  probably  conveys  only  emotions  and  not 
distinct  thoughts,  it  still  must  be  regarded  as 
a  certain  kind  of  speech." 57  Crows  and  their 
kindred,  he  says  again,  are  extremely  sensible 
creatures,  endlessly  engaged  in  chattering 
communications  with  each  other. 

The  most  convenient  place  to  observe  the 
language  of  our  fellow  creatures  in  feathers 
is  with  our  domesticated  species.  Several  per- 
sons have  made  careful  studies  of  the  lan- 
guage of  fowls.  One  man  has  progressed  so 
far  in  the  vocabulary  of  the  poultry-yard  that 
he  professes  not  only  to  understand  them, 
but  to  be  able  to  converse  with  them.  I  can 


60  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

testify  from  having  heard  him  that  he  can 
talk  hen  language  as  well  as  the  hens  them- 
selves. Professor  Asger  Hamerik,  of  the  Pea- 
body  Conservatory  of  Music  in  Baltimore, 
composer  of  Norse  symphonies,  asserts  em- 
phatically that  hens  have  a  well-defined  lan- 
guage. 

I  have  never  given  much  attention  to  this 
class  of  birds,  but  I  have  always  recognized 
their  individuality,  and  once  or  twice  have 
observed  a  significant  little  scene.  On  one 
occasion  my  windows  opened  into  an  orchard 
frequented  by  the  poultry  of  the  place,  and 
two  or  three  little  things  happened  before 
my  eyes  which  seemed  to  indicate  a  language. 
A  hen  with  thirteen  chicks  adopted  a  spot 
near  the  window  for  a  resting-place.  Several 
times  during  the  day  she  would  assemble  her 
downy  brood  and  cuddle  them  under  her 
wings  for  a  rest. 

Now  thirteen  is  a  large  number  for  one 
small  mother,  and  crowd  as  they  would  some 
of  them  were  often  left  only  half  covered. 
These  outsiders  would  occasionally  stray  away 
and  begin  picking  about  in  the  grass.  When 
this  occurred  the  hen  called  out  in  an  impera- 


HIS  LANGUAGE  61 

tive  tone,  very  different  from  her  ordinary 
cluck,  a  remark  of  six  notes,  upon  which  the 
stragglers  hurried  back  and  struggled  for 
place  under  their  feather  bed.  It  was  plainly 
a  command  to  return,  and  they  understood  it 
perfectly.  When  they  had  rested  long  enough 
the  mother  rose  with  a  single  note  and  started 
off  with  her  family. 

That  brooding-place  was  in  a  path  much 
frequented  by  the  hens,  leading  from  the 
stone  wall  where  they  entered  to  a  grape  trel- 
lis where  they  spent  much  time.  And  I  saw 
other  scenes  still  more  significant.  On  one 
occasion  a  hen  came  over  the  wall  and  started 
for  the  favorite  rendezvous.  The  family  group 
was  directly  in  the  path,  and  to  pass  them  she 
had  to  turn  out  into  the  deep  grass,  so  she 
passed  quite  near.  The  mother  uttered  a  warn- 
ing sort  of  remark  in  an  excited  tone,  upon 
which  the  other  answered  in  a  quiet,  low-toned 
speech,  exactly  as  if  she  had  said,  "  Don't  be 
alarmed;  I  shan't  touch  them,"  and  went 
on. 

The  next  moment  a  hen  came  dashing 
around  the  corner  from  the  other  side,  as  if 
she  were  pursued,  and  evidently  on  her  way 


62  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

to  the  wall  crossing.  She  came  almost  upon 
the  family  before  she  saw  them.  Then  she 
stopped  as  if  shot,  uttered  a  rather  long  ha- 
rangue in  a  high,  strained  voice,  and  turned 
and  departed,  talking  all  the  way  in  the  same 
tone.  I  could  not  resist  the  impression  that 
she  was  complaining  that  the  mother  had  no 
right  to  obstruct  the  common  way  and  compel 
others  to  go  round. 

Birds  express  themselves  very  well  without 
words.  It  is  remarkable  how  little  at  this  late 
day  we  understand  the  ways  in  which  birds 
show  their  emotions.  Every  part  of  them  is 
expressive,  —  the  tail,  the  wings,  even  the 
very  feathers,  which  are  raised  or  flattened 
at  will,  on  different  parts  of  the  body.  Some 
years  ago  I  had  a  red-winged  blackbird  whom 
I  rescued  from  the  discomforts  of  a  bird-store, 
and  having  nursed  him  through  an  illness,  I 
became  personally  well  acquainted  with  him. 
At  last  I  felt  obliged  to  dispose  of  him,  and 
as  he  was  not  capable  of  caring  for  himself  in 
freedom,  I  gave  him  to  a  friend. 

When  I  removed  the  cover  of  the  cage  in 
which  I  had  carried  him  to  her,  and  he  found 
himself  in  a  strange  place,  he  came  as  near  me 


HIS  LANGUAGE  63 

as  he  could  get  in  the  cage,  fixed  his  eyes  on 
me,  lifted  one  wing  and  held  it  up  trembling 
all  over,  while  he  addressed  me  in  a  very  low 
but  earnest  voice,  uttering  a  long  string  of 
notes  in  a  conversational  tone,  such  as  I  never 
heard  from  him  before.  I  was  astonished,  and 
I  must  say  moved,  for  I  could  not  resist  the 
conviction,  which  his  whole  manner  conveyed, 
that  he  was  reproaching  me  for  removing 
him  from  his  home  and  abandoning  him  to 
strangers. 

Many  more  confirming  statements  could  be 
added  to  this  chronicle,  but  enough  has  been 
said,  I  hope,  to  arouse  interest  in  the  subject 
and  to  stimulate  the  study  of  future  observers, 
and  I  will  close  the  subject  with  the  opinion 
and  advice  of  an  unknown  writer  in  the  Lon- 
don Telegraph :  — 

"  It  is  not  safe  for  man  to  think  and  call 
all  these  strange  families  of  the  silent  world 
alike  dumb,  or  to  despise  them  for  being  free 
of  grammars  and  dictionaries.  It  is  obvious 
that  some  power  of  mutual  communication 
assuredly  comes  to  all  creatures  that  live  in 
societies.  Nobody  can  watch  a  flock  of  birds 
.  .  .  without  perceiving  that  they  know  each 


64  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

other's  minds  in  some  way  or  other  in  a  very 
satisfactory  manner.  ...  It  would  be  more 
desirable  to  learn  what  they  talk  about  than 
to  discuss  the  problem  whether  they  talk  at 
all." 


IV 

HIS  ALTRUISM 


There  is  nothing  in  the  lower  animals  corresponding 
to  human  selfishness ;  whatever  there  is  in  them  of  vio- 
lence is  the  following  of  a  divine  intent :  human  vices 
have  no  counterpart  in  their  development.  —  HENBY 
MILLS  ALDEN,  God  in  His  World. 

Birds  in  general  are  resolute  in  defending  any  one  of 
their  number  when  attacked.  .  .  .  Almost  all  the  gal- 
linaceous birds  are  ready  to  risk  their  lives  in  behalf 
of  any  of  their  species.  —  WILSON  FLAGG,  Atlantic 
Monthly,  September,  1879. 

One  of  the  delightful  things  about  our  own  species  is 
its  colossal  conceit.  Until  very  lately  it  would  scarcely 
have  occurred  to  us  to  doubt  that  we  were  the  central 
figures  of  the  universe,  and  that  our  fate  was  the  chief 
concern  of  the  gods.  With  an  equally  naive  self-satis- 
faction we  have  quietly  arrogated  to  ourselves  the  sole 
possession  of  a  moral  sense.  We  cannot  deny  to  our 
animal  cousins  the  possession  of  the  primitive  virtues,  — 
affection,  courage,  loyalty  and  faithfulness  to  the  death, 
—  but  we  do  deny  them  the  moral  credit  for  them, 
on  the  ground  that  they  are  the  result  of  "  mere  in- 
stinct." —  WOODS  HUTCHINSON,  Contemporary  Review. 


IV 

HIS  ALTRUISM 

THE  subject  of  the  altruism  of  animals  has 
been  treated  by  a  writer  in  a  scientific  journal, 
who  asserts  that  the  animal  is  superior  to  man 
in  that  quality.  "Animal  societies/'  he  says, 
"are  less  polished  but,  all  things  being  equal, 
are  more  humane  than  our  own." 

Some  one,  complaining  of  Audubon's  saying 
that  pigeons  are  possessed  of  affection  and  love, 
declared  that  that  claim  for  them  raised  them 
to  a  level  with  man,  upon  which  Audubon  ex- 
claims in  his  journal :  "  0  man  !  misled,  self- 
conceited  being,  when  wilt  thou  keep  within 
the  sphere  of  humility  that,  with  all  thy  vices 
and  wickedness  about  thee,  should  be  thine ! >>58 

The  friendliness  of  birds  for  one  another, 
for  people,  and  even  for  animals,  is  of  great 
interest,  and  innumerable  well-authenticated 
instances  can  be  produced  bearing  on  the 
point.  I  can  give  space  to  but  few. 

A  familiar  and  oft-quoted  case  of  altruism 
is  that  given  by  Thomas  Edward,  a  well-known 


68  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

Scotch  naturalist,  and  related  in  his  life  by 
Smiles,  of  a  tern  wounded  by  a  shot  so  that  it 
could  not  fly.  When  it  was  in  danger  of  being 
secured  by  him,  two  of  the  flock  came  down, 
and  bore  it  away  beyond  his  reach. 

This  is  not  a  solitary  case  so  well  authenti- 
cated as  to  be  unquestioned.  Mr.  John  Lewis 
Childs  tells  in  the  Auk  a  similar  instance  of 
a  shrike  he  shot  in  Florida.  The  bird  flew 
and  tried  to  alight  in  a  tree,  but  was  unable 
to  do  so  and  fell  to  the  ground.  As  Mr. 
Childs  approached  to  capture  him,  the  bird 
struggled  up  and  fluttered  away  with  diffi- 
culty, uttering  a  cry  of  distress.  "  Immedi- 
ately another  of  his  kind  darted  out  of  a  tree, 
flew  to  his  wounded  companion,  and  circled 
about  him  and  underneath  him,  buoying  him 
up  as  he  was  about  to  sink  to  the  ground. 
These  tactics  were  repeated  continually,  the 
birds  rising  higher  and  flying  farther  away  till 
they  had  gone  nearly  out  of  sight  and  safely 
lodged  in  the  top  of  a  tall  pine  tree.  I  did  not 
pursue  the  bird  farther,"  he  concludes,  "  feel- 
ing that  such  devotion  and  intelligent  assist- 
ance on  the  part  of  the  second  bird  was  worthy 
of  success." 59 


HIS  ALTRUISM  69 

A  lady  whose  word  I  have  no  reason  to 
doubt  told  me  of  the  case  of  a  Baltimore 
oriole  who  must  have  received  similar  assist- 
ance from  others.  The  bird's  wing  was  badly 
broken,  so  that  he  could  not  fly  at  all.  He  was 
picked  up,  and  his  captor,  not  knowing  how 
else  to  help,  placed  him  in  a  comfortable  posi- 
tion in  an  attic,  with  the  windows  open,  in 
the  hope  that  outsiders  would  feed  him.  On 
going  up  a  little  later  to  see  how  he  fared, 
she  found  no  bird  there,  and  after  searching 
the  premises  thoroughly  she  saw  him  on  a 
tree  near  the  window,  accompanied  by  a  small 
flock  of  other  orioles.  He  must  have  been 
carried  out  or,  at  any  rate,  greatly  assisted. 
There  could  be  no  other  explanation. 

The  cries  of  distress  of  any  bird,  as  sports- 
men and  collectors,  as  well  as  bird-students, 
well  know,  will  always  bring  others  to  their 
aid,  and  those  not  only  of  their  own  species 
but  any  fellow  creature  with  wings.  I  have 
seen  many  instances  of  this  sympathy,  and  so 
no  doubt  has  every  other  student  of  the  living 
bird. 

Captain  Brown  tells  of  a  tame  stork  unable 
to  fly  and  living  with  poultry  in  the  yard. 


70  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

Wild  birds,  for  some  reason  we  cannot  guess, 
— "  some  good  birdy  reason,"  as  Sir  Edwin 
Arnold  says,  —  seem  always  to  resent  tame- 
ness  in  others  of  their  kind,  and  when  wild 
storks  attacked  this  one,  whom  they  doubtless 
considered  a  degenerate  brother,  the  whole 
feathered  population  of  the  place  flew  to  his 
assistance ;  hens,  geese,  and  ducks  rallied 
around  him  and  forced  the  intruders  to  re- 
tire.60 

The  American  crow,  popularly  considered 
the  possessor  of  all  the  vices  of  mankind,  with 
some  original  ones  thrown  in,  is,  on  the  con- 
trary, as  testified  by  those  who  have  observed 
him  closely  and  honestly,  a  very  much  mis- 
understood fellow  creature,  being  the  pos- 
sessor of  many  estimable  qualities,  in  which 
unselfishness  and  esprit  de  corps  are  con- 
spicuous. 

Illustrating  this  quality  of  the  crow  of 
unselfish  consideration  for  his  fellows  is  the 
story  told  by  Mr.  Ehoads  of  the  common 
bedtime  custom  of  these  birds.  It  is  well 
known  that  crows,  as  well  as  some  other  birds, 
however  they  may  scatter  abroad  during  the 
day,  come  together  in  the  evening  in  a  se- 


HIS  ALTRUISM  71 

eluded  grove  or  piece  of  woods,  and  pass  the 
night  sociably  in  immense  crowds.  It  is  as- 
serted by  Mr.  Rhoads,  and  confirmed  by  other 
observers,  that  the  birds  come  from  all  direc- 
tions in  flocks  of  varying  size,  and  collect  in 
a  field  or  convenient  place  near  the  roost,  and 
not  until  all  have  arrived  do  they  rise  to- 
gether, as  if  on  a  signal,  and  settle  themselves 
in  a  black  cloud  on  the  trees  of  the  roost. 
Says  Mr.  Khoads :  "  Many  crows  in  approach- 
ing the  place  of  preliminary  gathering  neces- 
sarily fly  over  the  roost,  but  not  a  bird  enters 
it  until  the  general  movement  begins  after 
sunset.  The  self-imposed  discipline  and  obe- 
dience of  such  an  army" — a  good  many 
thousand,  it  is  estimated  —  "puts  to  shame 
the  strictest  military  code.  Think  now  of  a 
weary  crow,  which,  having  winged  his  way 
thither  a  distance  of  twenty  miles,  arrives 
about  sunset  at  the  roost,  but,  the  ingathering 
not  having  yet  begun,  flaps  on  to  join  his 
brethren,  who  have  settled  half  a  mile  farther 
off  to  gossip  and  plume  themselves  before 
retiring." 61 

The   kindly  disposition    of   the  blue  jay, 
another  much  maligned  bird,  is  testified  to 


72>  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

by  Mr.  Scott,  who,  having  kept  them  in  his 
laboratory  among  many  birds  of  many  species, 
is  certainly  qualified  to  judge.  He  says :  "  From 
my  relationship  with  blue  jays  out  of  doors 
and  a  greater  intimacy  established  with  those 
who  are  members  of  the  bird  family  in  my 
laboratory,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  they 
are  not  only  sincerely  affectionate,  but  their 
disposition  towards  other  birds,  birds  in  gen- 
eral, is  a  kindly  one.  Wanton  attack  on  the 
part  of  a  blue  jay  upon  other  birds  with  which 
I  have  associated  him,  I  have  never  witnessed. 
I  believe  the  blue  jay  to  be  one  of  the  most 
kindly  denizens  of  the  forest." 62 

Sidney  Lanier  tells  of  a  mockingbird  six 
weeks  of  age  being  kept  in  a  cage  with 
another  young  bird  who  was  so  ill  he  could 
hardly  move.  One  day  food  happened  to  be 
delayed  in  coming,  and  Bob  got  furiously 
hungry.  He  called  and  screamed  and  made  a 
great  row.  At  last  it  appeared,  and  he  took 
in  his  beak  the  ball  of  egg  and  potato,  snatch- 
ing it  out  of  the  hand,  and  then,  instead  of 
eating  it,  ran  across  the  cage  and  gave  the 
whole  of  it  to  his  sick  friend.63  And  the  mock- 
ingbird, as  bird-students  know  him  in  freedom 


HIS  ALTRUISM  73 

and  grown  up,  is  not  at  all  sentimentally 
inclined  towards  his  fellows.  On  the  contrary 
he  is  self-assertive  and  usually  the  dictator  of 
the  neighborhood  he  considers  his  own. 

A  similar  case,  showing  the  protective  in- 
stinct of  a  skylark,  is  related  by  Buffon.  He 
had  a  skylark  so  young  she  could  hardly  feed 
herself,  when  a  brood  of  four  younger  ones 
were  brought  to  him.  The  elder  bird  at  once 
adopted  the  party,  nearly  her  own  age.  She 
nursed  them  night  and  day,  warmed  them 
under  her  wings,  pushed  food  into  their  mouths 
with  her  beak.  If  taken  away  she  flew  back 
as  soon  as  she  was  free,  making  no  effort  to 
escape,  which  she  could  easily  have  done.  She 
was  so  interested  she  literally  forgot  to  eat 
and  drink,  and  at  length  she  died,  consumed 
by  this  sort  of  maternal  passion.  The  young 
ones  died  after  her.64 

It  would  be  easy  to  fill  a  volume  with 
authentic  cases  of  the  generosity  and  kindness 
of  birds  to  others  of  their  kind,  when  caged, 
disabled,  or  in  distress.  An  old  gentleman  in 
New  England  told  me  of  a  case  he  once 
observed.  Noticing  a  little  flock  of  chewinks 
or  towhee  buntings  who  came  about  the  house 


74  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

for  food  that  was  thrown  out,  he  saw  that  one 
was  larger  than  the  others  and  that  they  fed 
him.  To  satisfy  his  curiosity  he  threw  a  stone 
with  such  accuracy  that  his  victim  fell,  and 
on  picking  him  up  he  was  surprised  to  see 
that  the  bird's  mandibles  were  crossed  so  that 
he  could  not  possibly  feed  himself.  The  infer- 
ence was  obvious :  his  comrades  had  fed  him, 
and  so  well  that  he  had  grown  bigger  than 
any  of  them. 

Mr.  Frithof  Kumlien,  of  Milwaukee,  Wis- 
consin, relates  this  little  tale,  adding  that  if 
not  showing  reason  it  certainly  shows  a  degree 
of  sympathy  and  kindness  worthy  of  imitation 
by  animals  of  a  higher  order.  This  is  the 
story :  His  attention  was  attracted  by  peculiar 
calls  of  a  blue  jay  which  were  answered  from 
trees  around.  The  calls  were  so  suggestive 
that  he  went  to  the  place  and  found  an  old 
blue  jay  on  a  fence,  and  several  others  in  a 
tree  at  some  distance.  On  nearing  the  bird 
the  cries  changed  from  low,  pleasant  tones  to 
those  of  shrill  alarm,  which  became  more  fre- 
quent as  he  appeared.  He  found  the  bird  old, 
helpless,  and  nearly  or  quite  blind,  eyes  almost 
closed,  claws  worn,  bill  dulled,  and  plumage 


HIS  ALTRUISM  75 

ragged.  Every  feature  suggested  old  age  and 
helplessness.  Yet  he  was  cared  for  and 
watched  as  tenderly  as  was  ever  a  young  bird 
in  nest.  The  observer  saw  him  often  after 
that,  and  never  did  his  comrades  desert  him. 
They  fed  him  and  regularly  guided  him  to  a 
spring  where  he  bathed.65 

Every  close  observer  must  have  seen  birds 
feeding  nestlings  not  of  their  own  species.  I 
have  several  times  seen  instances  of  this  and 
have  heard  of  many  more.  Mr.  Baskett  tells  of 
an  unmated  cardinal  grosbeak  who  helped  a 
pair  of  blackbirds  feed  their  young.66  When 
Professor  Herrick  put  two  young  kingbirds 
into  the  nest  of  a  strange  pair,  they  adopted 
and  cared  for  them  as  well  as  for  their  own.67 

Birds  in  captivity,  where  they  can  be  ob- 
served, often  show  the  warmest  affection  for 
others  of  their  kind.  Rev.  Mr.  Keyser  had 
a  blue  jay  reared  from  the  nest.  While  still 
young  he  was  put  into  a  cage  with  two  young 
catbirds,  for  whom  he  conceived  a  touch- 
ing affection.  He  would  sidle  up  to  one  and 
caress  it  in  a  most  loving  way,  moving  his 
beak  over  its  feathers,  now  on  the  head,  now 
on  the  back  and  wings.  He  insisted  on  sleep- 


76  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

ing  between  the  two  little  birds,  and  looked 
very  droll  with  a  small  bedfellow  on  each  side 
of  him. 

The  same  bird  showed  a  love  of  society. 
On  one  occasion  Mr.  Keyser's  several  cages  of 
birds  were  moved  from  one  porch  to  another 
on  the  other  side  of  the  house.  The  jay's  cage, 
being  too  big  for  the  new  quarters,  was  le£t 
behind,  when  at  once  the  bird  began  to  ex- 
press his  dissatisfaction  and  loneliness.  All 
day  he  rushed  about  his  cage,  calling  in  the 
most  pitiful  way.  The  next  morning  he  was 
no  more  reconciled,  and  showed  so  plainly  by 
every  look  and  motion  his  unhappiness  that 
a  place  was  made  for  him  near  the  others. 
The  moment  he  saw  them  he  gave  a  cry  of 
delight,  his  calls  ceased,  he  chirped  and  twit- 
tered, and  was  his  happy  self  again.68 

Mrs.  Robins,  Secretary  of  the  Pennsylvania 
Audubon  Society,  who  kept  birds  in  an  aviary, 
• — birds,  let  me  hasten  to  say,  which  she  found 
injured  or  disabled  in  bird  stores, —  had  once 
two  bobolinks,  birds  who  resent  captivity  per- 
haps more  than  any  other  of  our  native  birds. 
They  were  so  unhappy  in  the  company  of 
their  neighbors — thrushes,  robins,  and  others 


HIS  ALTRUISM  77 

— that  their  kind-hearted  mistress  placed 
them  in  a  room  by  themselves,  with  cage 
doors  open  and  every  arrangement  she  could 
think  of  for  their  comfort  and  happiness,  in- 
tending as  soon  as  moulting  was  over  and  their 
wing-feathers  properly  developed,  to  set  them 
free.  This  arrangement,  to  her  great  disap- 
pointment, did  not  content  the  bobolinks,  and 
so  far  from  enjoying  the  freedom  of  the  room, 
they  remained  moping  in  the  cage  all  day. 
Upon  this  they  were  returned  to  the  aviary, 
when,  to  her  surprise,  they  at  once  became 
perfectly  tame  and  sang  all  day,  apparently 
contented  and  happy.69 

It  is  related  of  James  Russell  Lowell  that 
he  once  found  a  family  of  birds  long  past  the 
age  for  flying  which  had  become  entangled 
in  the  nest  material  and  held  prisoners,  but 
had  been  fed  and  cared  for  so  well  that  when 
after  some  work  he  succeeded  in  releasing 
them,  they  were  in  good  condition  and  able 
to  fly. 

Instances  of  personal  love  or  friendship  be- 
tween birds,  not  only  love  of  mates  for  each 
other  and  their  young,  but  between  birds  of 
different  species,  are  often  noted  by  keepers 


78  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

of  pets.  I  had  myself  a  bird  who  on  three 
occasions  manifested  the  warmest  attachment 
for  a  bird  of  another  species,  following  the 
adored  one  around,  protecting  it  from  others, 
singing  to  it,  and  devoting  so  much  attention 
as  almost  seriously  to  interfere  with  his  care 
of  himself,  and  after  its  death  or  liberation 
moping  and  grieving  for  some  time.  The  bird 
was  an  English  goldfinch,  and  his  successive 
friendships  were  for  an  English  blackbird,  a 
scarlet  tanager,  and  a  European  golden  oriole. 
Some  of  the  bird  family  show  a  polite  re- 
gard for  their  fellows  that  might  profitably  be 
copied  by  members  of  the  human  family.  The 
Canada  jay  —  a  bird  well  known  to  lumber- 
men, hunters,  and  campers  in  the  Adirondacks 
and  other  northern  woods  —  has  a  reputation 
for  familiarity ;  or,  as  a  writer  from  a  Maine 
lumber  camp  puts  it,  "For  cool  impudence  he 
surpasses  every  other."  He  will  enter  a  tent 
and  appropriate  whatever  strikes  his  fancy, 
eating  anything  from  a  candle  to  a  cake  of 
soap,  not  excepting  the  lumberman's  dear 
delight — tobacco.  The  Indians  declare  that 
he  will  eat  moccasins,  fur  caps,  and  matches. 
In  spite  of  this  reputation,  the  bird  shows 


HIS  ALTRUISM  79 

consideration  for  his  fellows  not  too  com- 
mon in  the  human  family.  Dr.  Merriam  says 
that  when  camping  in  their  vicinity  he  often 
offered  the  birds  the  slight  refreshment  of  a 
camper's  pancake  pinned  to  the  ground  by  a 
stick.  The  jays  always  accepted  the  invitation 
to  breakfast,  pulling  off  pieces  of  the  cake  and 
eating  them.  But  never  did  they  quarrel  over 
it.  Each  one  waited  for  his  predecessor  to  be 
served  before  he  approached  the  cake  himself. 
Considering  the  fondness  of  this  bird  for  the 
food  of  men,  this  shows  a  remarkable  self- 
control,  as  well  as  kindness  to  others. 

An  egg  collector  tells  this  story  on  himself. 
He  once  approached  the  nest  of  a  wood  thrush 
on  his  usual  errand.  Both  of  the  pair  defended 
their  home,  and  their  cries  brought  to  their 
assistance  a  crowd  of  other  birds,  —  warblers, 
redstarts,  chickadees,  and  above  all  a  pair 
of  belligerent  blue  jays,  —  reinforcements  so 
strong  that  the  enemy  quailed  before  their 
combined  attacks,  and  was  glad  to  get  away 
with  both  eyes  in  his  head. 

Mr.  Selous,  who  has  made  interesting 
studies  of  the  sea  and  shore-birds  of  the  Brit- 
ish Islands,  once  found  a  young  tern  just 


80  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

beginning  to  fly.  As  he  walked  towards  it  the 
youngster  would  fly  a  little  way  and  then 
come  to  the  ground  at  some  distance.  Every 
time  it  alighted  a  crowd  of  adult  terns  hov- 

o 

ered  excitedly  over  it,  and  first  one  and  then 
another  would  swoop  down  so  as  almost  or 
quite  to  touch  it,  until  it  made  another  effort 
and  flew  up  again,  so  that  he  could  never 
approach  it  more  nearly.  "  It  certainly  seemed 
to  me,"  he  concludes,  "  as  though  the  grown 
community  were  trying  to  get  this  young  one 
to  fly  so  as  to  be  out  of  danger,  and  this  they 
always  succeeded  in  doing.  .  .  .  What  inter- 
est and  sympathy  were  shown  !  " 70 

What  can  it  be  but  liking  for  their  kind 
that  induces  so  many  birds  to  live  in  great 
cities  together,  in  most  cases  peaceably,  at 
least  far  more  peaceably  than  do  human  dwell- 
ers in  cities,  one  of  their  greatest  infringe- 
ments of  the  rules  of  kindness  and  good  man- 
ners being  —  so  far  as  authentically  reported 
—  a  certainly  laudable  desire  to  rear  a  large 
family,  leading  to  the  sly  stealing  of  eggs 
from  a  neighbor's  nest  while  its  guardian  is 
away  from  home. 

These  interesting  builders  of  cities,  which 


HIS  ALTRUISM  81 

in  size  rival  our  own,  are  mostly  sea-birds  who 
get  their  living  from  the  ocean,  some  of  whom, 
indeed,  are  said  to  come  on  land  only  for  the 
purpose  of  nesting. 

Mr.  Walter  K.  Fisher  gives  a  most  enter- 
taining account  of  a  large  city  of  the  alba- 
trosses sometimes  called  "  gonies,"  on  the  isl- 
and of  Laysan.  A  very  agreeable  thing  about 
these  birds  was  their  fearlessness  of  man, — 
whom  in  their  limited  experience  of  his  ways 
they  did  not  recognize  as  their  greatest  enemy. 
Mr.  Fisher  often  sat  down  among  them,  when 
they  looked  at  him  with  composure,  sometimes 
came  up  to  him,  and  in  fact  appeared  perfectly 
friendly.  They  were  much  addicted  to  bowing 
to  each  other,  with  what  object  Mr.  Fisher 
could  not  discover,  and  when  he  bowed  to  them 
they  returned  the  salutation.  Their  inspection 
over,  they  returned  to  their  domestic  duties, 
feeding  the  young  and  attending  to  their 
own  toilet  without  the  least  sign  of  concern.71 

Other  vast  colonies  of  sea-birds  have  been 
described  by  many  authors,  notable  among 
them  being  those  of  the  Bird  Bergs  of  Lap- 
land described  by  Alfred  Edmund  Brehm. 


V 
HIS  EDUCATION 


Some  folks  say  they  never  see  things  like  other  peo- 
ple. The  fault  is  their  own :  they  do  not  know  how  to 
look  for  them.  —  "A  SON  OF  THE  MARSHES,"  In  the 
Green  Leaf  and  the  Sere. 

The  more  the  habits  of  any  wild  animal  are  known 
the  greater  is  our  admiration  called  forth,  for  we 
see  traits  and  character  developed  and  intellectuality 
exhibited  that  are  ever  hidden  from  the  superficial 
observer.  —  JAMES  GREENWOOD,  Wild  Sports  of  the 
World. 

All  his  life  long  a  bird  is  learning.  An  old  heron  is 
far  more  knowing  than  a  young  one.  The  young  curlew 
has  to  learn  much  from  his  seniors  and  by  experience 
before  he  attains  to  the  proper  curlew  standard  of  wari- 
ness. —  F.  W.  HEADLEY,  M.  A.,  F.  Z.  S.,  Structure 
and  Life  of  Birds. 


HIS  EDUCATION 

ANOTHER  thing  that  brings  the  bird  into  near 
relationship  with  us  is  the  fact  that  he  has  to 
be  educated.  Sticklers  for  the  old  notion  of 
instinct  as  distinguished  from  reason  may  not 
believe  this,  and  it  is  confidently  asserted  to 
this  day  that  as  soon  as  a  young  bird  can  fly 
he  is  pushed  out  of  the  nest,  or  driven  away 
by  his  parents  to  take  care  of  himself. 

Nothing  can  be  farther  from  the  truth,  as 
has  been  proved  a  thousand  times  by  latter- 
day  observers,  who  study  from  life  and  not 
from  dead  books,  who  watch  for  themselves 
instead  of  accepting  the  statements  of  igno- 
rance or  prejudice.  According  to  all  the  testi- 
mony I  have  been  able  to  gather  from  real 
observers,  as  well  as  from  my  own  observa- 
tions during  more  than  a  score  of  years  of 
close  study  of  living  birds,  bird  parents  are 
as  tender  of  the  welfare  of  their  offspring  as 
human  parents,  and  no  more  than  the  human 
do  they  turn  the  young  out  to  care  for  them- 


86  THE  BIRD  OUR   BROTHER 

selves  until  they  have  been  trained  in  the  way 
of  life.  It  must  always  be  remembered  that 
the  period  of  a  bird's  helplessness  —  his 
school  days,  so  to  speak  —  is  much  shorter 
than  ours.  He  is  trained  for  life  in  a  few 
days  or  weeks. 

In  my  closest  watching  I  never  saw  an  in- 
stance of  what  even  looked  like  hurrying  the 
young,  not  to  say  driving  them,  away.  On 
the  contrary,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  most 
careless  observer  must  see  that  the  time  of 
leaving  the  nest  is  one  of  great  anxiety  to  the 
parents,  and  an  accident,  like  a  fall  to  the 
ground,  is  treated  like  a  serious  calamity.  I 
have  seen  the  most  loving  care  exercised  at 
this  time,  such,  for  example,  as  a  parent's 
flying  directly  under  the  venturesome  nestling 
in  its  first  flight,  calling  sweetly  all  the  time 
to  encourage  him,  and  near  enough  to  receive 
him  on  his  own  back  if  his  strength  gave  out. 
Examples  such  as  this,  and  many  other  facts 
observed,  long  ago  convinced  me  that  bird 
parents  love  their  young  as  tenderly  as  we 
do  ours. 

Although  to  careless  observers  the  young 
soon  appear  to  graduate  from  parental  care, 


HIS  EDUCATION  87 

their  relations  are  not  severed  by  any  means. 
I  have  often  seen  the  statement  that  the  Bal- 
timore oriole  leaves  us  as  soon  as  the  young 
are  out  of  the  nest,  but  more  times  than  I  can 
tell  I  have  seen  him,  long  after  he  had  be- 
come silent  and  apparently  had  departed,  steal- 
ing about  on  the  ground  under  bushes  and  in 
lonely  places,  with  two  or  three  youngsters 
following  him,  seeking  food  for  them  and 
teaching  them  to  find  it  for  themselves,  the 
whole  party  as  silent  as  if  they  were  in 
hiding. 

It  is  known  that  in  many  cases  the  family 
remain  in  a  little  flock  all  winter.  It  may  be 
that  all  birds  have  this  strong  family  feeling, 
but  in  most  cases  their  habit  of  migration 
makes  it  impossible  to  determine. 

The  story  of  birds  deserting  or  driving 
away  their  offspring  is  as  old  as  Aristotle ; 
but  so  are  other  tales  long  ago  disproved, 
such  as  this  :  "  The  eagle  scorns  to  share  the 
spoils  of  another  bird,  and  rejects  every  species 
of  prey  which  he  has  not  acquired  by  his  own 
industry  and  prowess."72  Eagles,  it  is  true, 
may  have  degenerated  since  the  day  that 
was  written,  and  I  need  not  mention  the 


88  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

well-known  food  habits  of  our  own  national 
bird. 

As  for  the  truth  of  the  story,  there  is  far 
better  evidence  for  the  old  tale  that  swallows 
hibernate  buried  in  mud  at  the  bottom  of 
ponds;  even  Dr.  Coues  says  the  evidence  in 
this  case  is  too  strong  to  be  dismissed  with 
scorn. 

To  be  sure,  Edmond  Selous  repeats  the 
statement  of  the  birds'  parental  harshness  on 
the  word  of  a  rustic  in  the  British  Islands ; 
but  from  much  better  authority  than  any  illit- 
erate rustic  —  from  a  scientific  publication,  a 
dignified  encyclopaedia  of  nature  wisdom  — 
we  have  the  extraordinary  tale  that  when  the 
plumage  of  an  eagle  becomes  worn  and  past 
its  usefulness  the  bird  flies  up  near  enough 
to  the  sun  to  become  excessively  heated,  and 
then  plunges  instantly  into  the  sea,  when  the 
old  feathers  fall  off,  and  new  plumage  at  once 
appears,  and  with  it  a  renewal  of  youth ;  and 
the  significant  information  is  added  that  in 
this  statement  "the  learned  and  even  the 
critics  themselves  are  agreed." 73 

I  cannot  refrain  from  giving  another  gem 
from  this  treasure-house  of  knowledge.  It  i& 


HIS  EDUCATION  89 

a  description  of  the  unique  method  of  sleep- 
ing practiced  by  the  albatross.  When  the  bird 
wishes  to  sleep  it  "rises  into  the  clouds  as 
high  as  it  can,  when,  putting  its  head  under 
one  wing  and  beating  the  air  with  the  other, 
it  seems  to  enjoy  its  ease.  After  some  time, 
however,  the  weight  of  its  body,  only  thus 
half  supported,  brings  it  down,  and  it  is  then 
seen  descending  with  a  pretty  accelerated  mo- 
tion towards  the  surface  of  the  deep ;  on  this 
it  again  exerts  itself  to  rise,  and  thus  alter- 
nately ascends  and  descends  at  its  ease." 74 

The  training  of  young  birds,  it  must  be 
understood,  is  never  paraded  before  a  man 
with  a  gun,  or  even  a  casual  looker-on.  It  is 
seen  only  by  a  fortunate  accident  or  by  per- 
sistent, untiring  watching.  Professor  Lloyd 
Morgan,  to  whose  studies  I  have  referred, 
made  some  interesting  experiments  in  the  in- 
stinct of  birds,  by  rearing  chickens  and  wild 
fowl  from  an  incubator,  so  that  they  never 
could  have  learned  anything  from  their  par- 
ents. He  found  that  they  needed  to  be  taught 
almost  everything  necessary  to  the  proper 
conduct  of  their  lives,  —  not  only  to  distin- 
guish what  was  good  to  eat,  but  even  the  very 


90  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

acts  of  eating  and  drinking.  They  showed  no 
fear  of  the  human  race,  and  plainly  did  not 
understand  the  language  of  their  own  mother 
when  he  placed  them  near  her.  The  mother- 
cluck  of  the  hen  had  no  meaning  for  the  incu- 
bator chick,  who  nevertheless  came  promptly 
when  he  called.  These  experiments  proved 
conclusively  that  young  birds  are  taught  — 
or  learn  by  imitation,  which  is  the  same  thing 
— to  eat  and  drink,  to  understand  their  native 
tongue,  to  recognize  and  procure  their  food, 
and  to  fear  mankind.75  "  Flight  has  an  instinc- 
tive basis,"  says  Mr.  Morgan, "  but  all  the  nice- 
ties, the  skill,  come  from  practice  and  the 
instruction  and  imitation  of  parents."76 

"  The  young  falcons  and  hawks,"  says  "  A 
Son  of  the  Marshes,"  "  are  well  trained  by 
their  parents :  from  the  time  they  are  strong 
enough  to  break  up  the  food  brought  to  them 
it  is  one  long  course  of  instruction.  The  old 
birds  teach  them  to  strike  at  their  game.  One 
or  the  other  will  shoot  up  with  a  portion  of 
food  followed  by  the  young  ones.  When  the 
morsel  is  dropped  they  dash  after  it,  and  the 
quickest  gets  it." 77 

I  have  often  seen  the  young  sandpipers  of 


HIS  EDUCATION  91 

a  summer  being  drilled  and  trained  in  the  art 
of  flying  together,  which,  as  these  birds  exe- 
cute it,  is  one  of  the  most  fascinating  scenes 
of  the  shore.  The  infant  drill  was  an  irregu- 
lar zigzag  performance  very  different  from 
the  perfect  movement  of  the  grown-up  flock, 
passing  back  and  forth  as  it  does  over  the 
water  almost  as  one  bird,  or  as  if  moved  by 
one  brain. 

Parents  in  the  bird  world,  as  in  the  human, 
have  not  only  work  of  the  most  exacting  kind, 
but  anxieties  and  cares  as  well.  From  the 
moment  the  nest  is  occupied  by  nestlings  till 
the  young  are  fully  grown  and  educated, 
many  perils  menace  them,  which  they  must 
be  trained  to  understand  and  avoid. 

Worst  of  all,  perhaps,  are  the  anxieties  of 
the  time  when  the  young  birds  leave  the  nest. 
Young  America  in  feathers  is  almost  as  bump- 
tious and  self-assertive,  and  needs  almost  as 
much  guidance,  as  Young  America  in  flannels 
and  lawns.  Though  the  parents  may  be  as 
wise  as  Solomon,  the  youngster  will  be  foolish 
and  headstrong :  he  will  call  and  shout  when 
enemies  are  near ;  he  will  leave  the  nest  be- 
fore his  wings  are  ready  for  service,  and  so 


92  THE   BIRD  OUR   BROTHER 

place  himself  at  the  mercy  of  cats  and  other 
prowlers.  As  soon  as  he  has  even  partial  use 
of  his  wings  he  will  wander  into  a  thousand 
dangers  and  draw  his  devoted  parents  after 
him,  for  they  cannot  desert  him,  and  he  will 
not  heed  their  coaxing.  In  such  cases  the 
distracted  parents  have  been  known  to  attack 
and  beat  off  their  great  enemy  the  cat,  and  even 
to  fly  at  man  himself,  sometimes  with  success. 

But  let  me  give  the  testimony  of  others : 
Professor  Morgan  says  that  birds  reared  from 
incubators,  and  so  deprived  of  parental  in- 
struction, have  no  fear  of  dog  or  cat,  or  even 
of  a  man  if  quiet  in  movement.78 

Hudson  also,  who  studied  scores  of  young 
rheas,  or  South  American  ostriches,  who  were 
taken  before  they  were  taught  what  to  fear, 
asserts  that  not  one  showed  fear  of  him.  A 
brood  that  he  kept  himself  followed  him  about, 
as  tame  as  a  pet  dog  or  cat.79 

Again,  the  same  observer  watched  the  com- 
mon sparrows  (in  England)  and  fed  them  from 
a  window.  The  young  when  first  able  to  fly 
were  brought  by  their  parents,  and  after  two 
or  three  visits  they  came  alone.  "At  such 
times,"  he  declares,  "  they  would  venture 


HIS  EDUCATION  93 

quite  close  to  me,  showing  little  suspicion, 
but  the  adults  were  extremely  suspicious  and 
showed  it  so  plainly  that  soon  the  young 
learned  the  lesson,  their  suspicions  increased 
day  by  day,  and  about  a  week  later  they  acted 
exactly  like  the  adults.  It  is  plain  that  fear 
of  man  is  taught  them." 80 

Nor  can  we  be  surprised  at  this  fear.  Says 
Professor  Shaler :  "  We  have  through  our 
hunting  instituted  a  very  thorough-going  and 
continuous  system  of  selection,  which  has 
tended  to  affirm  in  these  creatures  an  intense 
fear  of  our  kind.  Only  the  most  timorous 
have  escaped  us,  and  year  after  year  we  pro- 
ceed to  remove  with  the  gun  the  individuals 
which  by  chance  are  born  with  any  consider- 
able share  of  the  primitive  tolerance  of  man's 
presence." 81 

Again,  Hudson  says:  "Another  proof 
that  the  nestling  has  absolutely  no  instinc- 
tive knowledge  of  particular  enemies,  but  is 
taught  to  fear  them  by  the  parents,  is  to  be 
found  in  the  striking  contrast  between  the 
habits  of  parasitical  and  genuine  young  in 
the  nest,  and  after  they  have  left  it,  while 
still  unable  to  find  their  own  food.  The  warn- 


94  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

ing  cries  of  the  foster  parents  have  no  effect 
on  the  young  cowbird  [of  South  America,  of 
course]  at  any  time.  Until  able  to  fly  they 
will  take  food  from  the  hand  of  man,  even 
while  the  old  birds  are  screaming  and  their 
own  young  are  crouching  down  in  the  greatest 
fear.  As  soon  as  the  young  cowbirds  associate 
with  their  own  kind  they  become  suspicious 
and  wild  like  other  birds."  82 

It  is  not  uncommon  to  see  young  birds 
taught  to  bathe,  both  in  aviaries  and  in  free- 
dom. This  little  story  was  told  to  me  by  an 
eye-witness  who  always  kept  bathing  conve- 
niences ready  for  the  birds  on  his  place :  — 

On  this  morning  he  saw  a  mother  robin 
trying  to  get  a  young  one  to  go  into  the 
water.  The  youngster  refused,  seeming  to  be 
afraid.  At  last,  after  much  coaxing,  the  mother 
flew  away,  and  returned  bearing  in  her  beak 
a  tempting  earthworm.  At  once  the  infant 
began  to  beg  and  clamor  for  the  morsel,  but 
the  mother  alighted  in  the  middle  of  the 
water  dish,  and,  holding  the  worm  in  plain 
sight,  stayed  there  till  the  unwilling  youngster 
plunged  in  after  it.  Once  in  he  appeared  to 
enjoy  the  splashing  he  received. 


HIS  EDUCATION  95 

All  close  observers  of  bird-life  must  have 
heard  the  young  at  their  singing-lessons.  It 
is  a  rare  pleasure,  says  Mr.  Fish,  to  sit  on 
the  slope  of  a  certain  ravine  and  listen  to  the 
birds  teaching  the  young,  sometimes  the  rob- 
ins, sometimes  others,  but  oftenest  the  song- 
sparrow,  the  older  bird  singing  a  little,  then 
the  young  taking  it  up  in  that  quavering,  un- 
certain manner  heard  in  young  canaries  just 
beginning  to  sing.83 

The  fact  that  young  birds  learn  the  song 
of  those  they  are  with  has  been  proved  many 
times  since  the  well-known  experiments  of  the 
Honorable  Daines  Barrington,  published  in 
1773,  made  it  known.  On  placing  several  nest- 
ling linnets  under  the  instruction  of  an  equal 
number  of  the  best  singers  in  England  he 
found  that  each  one  learned  the  song  of  its 
foster  parent.84 

There  is  plenty  of  evidence  that  young 
birds  reared  away  from  their  parents,  and 
therefore  receiving  no  instruction  in  song, 
never  learn  the  perfect  song.  This  has  been 
abundantly  proved  by  captive  birds,  as  all 
who  have  kept  pets  and  observed  them  will 
testify.  Mr.  Scott,  who  has  had  exceptional 


96  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

opportunities  for  such  study  of  numbers  of 
captives,  is  emphatic  in  his  utterance  on  this 
point.  He  says  that  of  the  seventy  or  eighty 
that  he  has  studied  not  one  ever  sang  the  nor- 
mal song  of  its  species.85 

Again,  Mr.  Scott  had  in  his  bird-rooms  a 
deformed  blue  jay,  who  was  reared  from  the 
nest  and  never  associated  with  his  kind.  In 
the  room  was  also  a  cardinal  grosbeak,  one 
of  the  finest  singers  of  his  family.  The  young 
blue  jay  learned  the  song  of  the  cardinal  so 
perfectly  that  Mr.  Scott  could  not  tell  it  from 
the  cardinal's  own.  "  Even  when  hearing  the 
two  performers  almost  together,  I  could  dis- 
tinguish only  a  slight  difference,  which  was 
not  in  the  cardinal's  favor."  ** 

A  gentleman  in  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  whose 
roomful  of  birds  I  have  often  visited,  picked 
up  a  young  chewink,  or  towhee  bunting,  who 
had  somehow  got  separated  from  his  family, 
and  seemed  in  distress.  He  was  placed  in  a 
cage  near  a  European  ortolan,  and  learned 
his  song  perfectly.  To  see  if  the  youngster 
would  recognize  his  native  notes  the  gentle- 
man procured  an  adult  chewink  in  full  song 
and  placed  him  in  a  cage  near  the  young  one, 


HIS   EDUCATION  97 

who,  however,  persisted  in  singing  what  he  had 
learned  from  the  ortolan,  paying  no  attention 
whatever  to  his  relative.87 

I  have  known  and  corresponded  with  sev- 
eral persons  who  have  reared  birds  from  the 
nest,  and  all  testify  that  the  young  bird  does 
not  sing  his  native  song.  A  catbird  reared  in 
this  way,  whom  I  took  quite  a  journey  to  see, 
as  related  elsewhere,  having  no  other  bird's 
notes  to  copy,  sang  a  medley  of  his  own  com- 
position, introducing  into  it  as  part  of  the 
song  some  of  the  loving  words  addressed  to 
him  by  his  mistress,  which  he  pronounced 
perfectly,  and  some  of  the  cries  of  the  street 
boys  who  played  under  the  windows,  but,  ex- 
cepting the  quality  of  his  voice,  there  was  no 
resemblance  to  the  catbird  song.  A  tame  blue 
jay  learned  to  sing  deliciously,  almost  as  well 
as  the  mockingbird  whom  he  imitated,  and 
was  besides  almost  human  in  intelligence  and 
affection.88 

Even  an  adult  bird  can  and  often  does 
learn  a  song  not  his  own  when  circumstances 
give  him  an  opportunity  to  study  another's 
score,  as  I  have  told  elsewhere.  I  have  heard 
and  seen  a  common  English  sparrow  out  of 


98  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

the  streets  sing  the  canary  song  perfectly, 
and  better  than  the  canary  himself,  because 
of  his  richer  voice;  and,  what  was  not  so 
strange,  considering  the  reputation  of  the 
family,  I  have  heard  a  mockingbird  do  the 
same  thing,  executing  the  whole  song  exactly 
as  the  canary  does,  and  not  in  the  short-clause, 
disjointed  way  in  which  this  bird  usually  sings. 
The  sparrow  had  been  injured  and  picked  up 
helpless  in  the  street,  carefully  nursed  by  a 
sympathetic  woman,  and  placed  in  a  cage 
near  a  singing  canary,  and  while  recovering 
from  his  accident  he  occupied  his  leisure 
in  cultivating  his  voice.  The  mockingbird 
lived  in  a  cage  beside  a  roomful  of  canaries, 
separated  from  them  only  by  a  wire  gauze 
partition.  With  the  fun-loving  nature  char- 
acteristic of  this  bird,  nothing  could  delight 
him  more  than  to  perfect  himself  in  the  song 
of  his  small  neighbors,  and  then,  while  they 
were  in  the  full  blast  of  singing,  —  fifty  of 
them  together,  —  to  break  in  upon  them  with 
their  own  notes  in  his  much  louder  and  finer 
voice.  This  always  silenced  them  instantly, 
apparently  in  amazement,  but  the  impulse  to 
join  in  the  song  soon  became  irresistible,  and 


HIS   EDUCATION  99 

in  another  moment  the  whole  house  was  ring- 
ing with  the  music. 

Year  by  year,  as  men  have  grown  broader 
and  studied  deeper  into  the  lives  about  them, 
the  lines  separating  the  so-called  "  lower 
orders "  from  us  have  become  fainter  and 
fainter,  till  now  the  possession  of  many  of 
our  faculties  is  conceded  to  them,  and  most 
of  our  virtues,  and  some,  alas,  of  our  vices, 
may  be  found  in  the  kingdom  we  consider 
beneath  us. 

Read  the  words  of  a  thoughtful  modern 
writer :  "The  world  is  learning  to  see  rela- 
tives—  in  collateral  and  far-off  degrees,  no 
doubt  —  in  animals.  Their  poor  little  lives 
are  just  like  ours,  but  cast  in  narrower  lines ; 
we  find  the  germ  of  every  faculty  that  we 
can  boast  of  in  their  hearts  and  brains." 

And,  again,  our  own  Agassiz :  "  The  pas- 
sions of  animals  cover  the  same  field  as  those 
of  men.  I  fail  to  perceive  between  them  a 
difference  of  species,  however  great  may  be 
their  differences  of  degree,  and  the  variety  of 
their  modes  of  expression." 


VI 
HIS  AFFECTIONS 


I  believe  as  firmly  in  the  morality  of  animals  as 
in  the  morality  of  bishops  and  deans.  —  SIR  EDWIN 
ARNOLD,  in  The  Youth's  Companion. 

Man  exhibits  hardly  a  trait  which  he  will  not  find 
reflected  in  the  life  of  a  bird.  —  FRANK  M.  CHAPMAN, 
Bird-Life. 

Man,  with  all  his  striving  towards  a  better  social  state, 
has,  as  a  whole,  not  yet  attained  to  the  enduring  affection 
for  the  mate  which  is  evinced  by  the  greater  part  of  the 
birds.  —  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER,  Domesti- 
cated Animals. 


VI 

HIS  AFFECTIONS 

IT  is  a  time-worn  belief  that  birds  have  no 
family  affections ;  that  their  loving  care  of 
their  mates  and  young  continues  only  through 
the  time  of  their  helplessness,  and  that  as 
soon  as  the  young  are  trained  and  capable  of 
taking  care  of  themselves,  all  interest  in  each 
other  ceases.  It  is  even  said,  as  noted  in 
a  preceding  chapter,  that  the  parents  drive 
away  their  offspring. 

Volumes  of  proof  of  the  family  affection 
of  birds  could  be  produced.  I  will  cite  but 
few.  Mr.  Pollard  says  that  the  long-tailed 
titmouse  (an  English  bird)  continues  to  asso- 
ciate with  the  young  long  after  they  leave 
the  nest.  They  go  about  in  family  groups 
till  the  next  spring.  He  once  saw  a  pair  and 
their  ten  young  ones  sunning  themselves  to- 
gether on  some  rhododendron  bushes.89 

Dr.  Roberts,  in  an  interesting  account  of 
Franklin's  gull,  read  before  the  American 
Ornithologists'  Union  in  1899,  spoke  of  the 


104  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

affection  of  mothers  for  their  young,  and  not 
alone  for  their  own.  The  infant  gull,  it  seems, 
is  a  wanderer,  escaping  from  the  nest  early  in 
life  and  wandering  about  among  the  neighbor- 
ing nests  of  the  colony.  Every  mother  tries  to 
coax  these  stragglers  to  cuddle  down  by  her 
and  be  taken  care  of,  and  some  of  them  man- 
age to  collect  about  themselves  a  goodly  num- 
ber of  the  roving  infants.  This  does  not  meet 
the  approval  of  the  real  mother,  who,  on  her 
return  from  her  food-hunt,  proceeds  to  look 
up  her  little  folk  and  get  them  home  by  the 
summary  process  of  taking  them  by  the  neck 
—  the  only  way  she  can  take  them  —  and 
returning  them  to  their  proper  nest. 

"  Quail,"  says  Elliot,  "  are  affectionate  birds, 
and  each  little  family  keeps  always  together, 
no  member  ever  leaving  the  main  body  unless 
under  compulsion,  and  then  it  is  very  restless 
and  unhappy  until  it  has  regained  its  com- 
panions." When  scattered  they  come  together 
again,  each  one  calling  a  low,  plaintive  "  quoi- 
i-hee,"  and,  responding,  going  towards  each 
other  till  all  are  united.90 

Mr.  Selous,  in  his  close  watching  of  shags, 
or  cormorants,  speaks  of  their  pretty  family 


HIS  AFFECTIONS  105 

life.  The  young  are  good-tempered  and  play- 
ful, a  good  deal  like  puppies,  "  and  the  heart 
goes  out  to  them  and  their  loving,  careful, 
assiduous  parents.  As  pretty  domestic  scenes 
are  enacted  daily  and  hourly  on  these  stern 
old  rocks,  within  the  very  heave  and  dash  of 
the  waves,  as  ever  in  Arcadia,  or  in  any  neat 
little  elegant  bower  where  the  goddess  of 
such  things  presides." 

The  same  writer,  too,  in  speaking  of  nesting 
guillemots,  says :  "  Much  affection  is  shown 
between  the  paired  birds.  One  that  is  sitting 
will  often  be  very  much  cosseted  by  the  part- 
ner who  stands  close  behind  or  beside  her. 
With  the  tip  of  his  long,  pointed  beak  he,  as 
it  were,  nibbles  the  feathers  of  her  head,  neck, 
and  throat,  while  she  with  eyes  half  closed 
.  .  .  bends  her  head  backward  or  sideways 
towards  him,  occasionally  nibbling  at  him  at 
the  same  time.  When  the  young  one  appears, 
the  father  cossets  it  in  the  same  way,  only 
very  gently.  Both  parents  stand  side  by  side 
over  the  chick  as  if  they  could  not  make 
enough  of  it."92 

Sportsmen  often  see  striking  evidences  of 
the  love  of  mates.  Mr.  Nelson  relates  that, 


106  THE  BIRD  OUR   BROTHER 

as  after  killing  a  female  snowflake  they  went 
slowly  away,  her  mate  followed,  "  flew  about 
us,  continually  uttering  a  loud,  plaintive  call- 
note  all  the  time  we  stayed  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. He  showed  the  greatest  distress,  and 
appeared  to  be  perfectly  aware  that  we  had 
his  mate  in  our  possession,  for  he  deserted  the 
nest  and  followed  us  over  one  hundred  yards, 
keeping  close  to  us,  regardless  of  any  danger 
to  himself."93 

The  loon,  or  great  northern  diver,  is  re- 
ported to  have  displayed  her  mother  love  and 
anxiety  in  this  manner  to  a  sportsman  fishing 
in  Sebago  Lake  in  Maine :  He  surprised  the 
mother  with  one  young  one  near  his  canoe. 
She  was  employing  every  artifice  to  call  the 
little  one  away,  but  the  infant  swam  so  near 
the  boat  that  the  fisherman  took  him  aboard 
in  his  landing-net,  and,  holding  him  on  his 
knee,  gently  stroked  his  downy  coat,  to  the 
evident  satisfaction  of  the  youngster.  Mean- 
while the  mother  was  in  an  agony  of  distress. 
At  first,  forgetting  her  native  wildness  and 
timidity  in  her  mother  love,  she  boldly  ap- 
proached the  canoe,  and,  rising  in  the  water 
till  she  appeared  to  stand  upon  it,  furiously 


HIS  AFFECTIONS  107 

flapped  her  wings,  uttering  menacing  cries. 
Finding  this  of  no  avail,  she  pretended  that 
she  Was  wounded,  rolling  over  in  the  water 
and  finally  lying  still  as  if  dead,  evidently  to 
attract  attention  to  herself  and  away  from  the 
young  one.  The  fisherman,  touched  by  these 
displays  of  motherly  affection,  put  the  young 
loon  into  the  water,  upon  which  the  mother 
instantly  came  to  life  and  again  tried  to  en- 
tice her  little  one  to  go  with  her.  But  he 
liked  his  new  acquaintance  so  well  that  he 
remained  near  the  boat  until  the  man  paddled 
away  to  a  considerable  distance,  where  he 
waited  to  see  the  outcome  of  the  adventure. 
As  he  withdrew  the  mother  with  cries  of  joy 
swam  to  her  little  one,  dived  beneath  him, 
and,  taking  him  on  her  back,  quickly  bore  him 
to  a  safe  distance,  when  she  stopped;  and 
the  human  listener  says  he  never  imagined 
the  loon  could  produce  such  soft,  sweet,  melo- 
dious notes  as  she  then  uttered.94 

The  mother-love  of  a  bird  sometimes,  in- 
deed, gives  her  a  wonderful  courage.  Sir 
Edwin  Arnold  tells  of  the  bravery  of  a  hen 
when  a  ferret,  escaped  from  confinement,  sud- 
denly appeared  before  her.  She  was  in  charge 


108  THE  BIRD  OUR   BROTHER 

of  a  brood  of  chicks,  and  the  animal  was  evi- 
dently after  something  to  eat.  "Imagine/' 
says  the  narrator,  "some  rural  matron  ab- 
ruptly confronted  with  a  dragon  or  foaming 
tiger.  .  .  .  Terror  would  paralyze  her,  she 
could  and  would  probably  do  nothing  but 
scream;  but  this  fussy,  foolish  little  Dame 
Partlet  .  .  .  fluffed  out  her  gallant  plumage 
and  went  for  the  monster  so  vigorously,  peck- 
ing and  kicking  and  bewildering  him,  that 
the  little  ones  were  safely  perched  in  a  small 
fir  tree  before  the  dangerous  beast  had  filled 
his  wicked  mouth  with  her  feathers,  and 
angrily  given  up  the  chase.  Our  glorious 
Order  of  the  V.  C.  has  been  awarded  for 
deeds  which  were  merest  child's  play  com- 
pared to  the  valor  of  that  heroic  hen."  * 

Birds  prove  their  affection  for  the  young 
by  giving  their  own  lives  for  them.  A  gen- 
tleman who  was  in  the  Lake  Superior  region 
looking  up  mining  interests  told  me  this  story 
(which  I  have  related  elsewhere) :  The  party 
set  fire  to  a  group  of  trees  on  a  point  of  land 
running  out  into  the  lake.  In  one  of  these 
trees  was  the  nest  of  a  pair  of  fish  hawks 
containing  young.  As  the  flames  neared  their 


HIS   AFFECTIONS  109 

tree,  they  flew  about  in  great  excitement,  cry- 
ing and  showing  great  distress.  When  the 
flames  mounted  higher  and  at  last  enveloped 
the  nest,  the  pair  with  one  accord  dived  down 
into  the  nest  and  perished  with  their  young. 

Many  similar  cases  have  been  reported. 
During  a  fire  in  the  Maine  woods  a  few  years 
ago  some  of  the  men  who  went  out  from  the 
camp  where  I  was  staying  to  fight  the  fire 
told  me  of  seeing  birds  throw  themselves  into 
the  flames  where  a  bush  was  burning.  No 
doubt  they  had  nests  there. 

A  similar  devotion  was  exhibited  by  that 
universally  misunderstood  bird  already  vindi- 
cated by  Sir  Edwin  Arnold,  the  domestic  hen. 
After  a  very  disastrous  fire  in  Minnesota, 
known  in  the  annals  of  the  state  as  the  Hinck- 
ley  Fire,  a  man  walking  over  the  ruins  dis- 
covered a  dead  hen  sitting  closely  on  the 
ground.  He  poked  her  with  his  foot,  when 
she  fell  over  and  disclosed  a  lively  little  brood 
of  ducks,  which  ran  out,  apparently  glad  to  be 
released.  She  had  protected  them  with  her 
own  life,  for  she  could  easily  have  escaped 
herself. 

Instances  multiply  upon  one.  Thomas  Ed- 


110  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

ward  one  day  came  upon  a  wild  duck  lying 
on  her  side  in  the  snow.  He  found  that  she 
was  dead,  with  neck  stretched  out,  mouth 
open  and  full  of  snow,  and  wings  somewhat 
spread.  On  lifting  the  body  he  discovered  a 
nest  with  thirteen  eggs,  every  one  of  which  on 
later  investigation  proved  to  contain  a  young 
bird.  This  was  undoubted  proof  that  she  had 
sat  upon  them  for  two  or  three  weeks.  Upon 
close  examination  of  the  body  no  marks  of 
violence  were  found,  so  that  he  was  convinced 
that  she  had  died  in  a  desperate  struggle  to 
protect  her  eggs  from  the  fatal  snowstorm. 
"  A  deep  and  striking  example  of  maternal 
affection,"  he  calls  it.  "  Her  own  life  she  could 
easily  have  saved  had  she  been  willing  to 
abandon  her  brood."  In  respect  for  her 
mother-devotion  Mr.  Edward  wrapped  her 
body  in  paper  and  buried  it  with  her  eggs.96 

Major  Bendire  tells  a  story  of  devotion  that 
had  a  less  tragic  ending.  A  gentleman  hear- 
ing bird  voices  in  a  fireplace  long  after  the 
chimney  swifts  had  taken  their  departure  had 
the  curiosity  to  take  out  the  fireboard  to  in- 
vestigate. He  found  that  a  young  bird  had 
become  entangled  in  a  long  hair  and  fallen 


HIS  AFFECTIONS  111 

to  the  bottom  of  the  chimney.  Attendant 
upon  the  prisoner  was  a  devoted  parent,  pre- 
sumably his  mother,  who  had  kept  him  so  well 
fed  that  he  was  strong  and  vigorous.  She 
calmly  looked  on  while  he  cut  the  hair  and 
set  the  youngster  at  liberty,  and  then  began 
instructing  him  in  the  art  of  flying.  It  was 
more  than  an  hour  before  he  succeeded  in 
following  her  up  that  long  dark  lane  to  the 
open  air ;  but  when  he  did,  the  pair  at  once 
started  on  their  long  and  lonesome  journey  to 
the  winter  home  of  their  tribe.97 

The  affection  of  birds  for  the  young  some- 
times assumes  a  ludicrous  form,  such  as  in 
the  case  of  the  gull,  already  mentioned,  where 
the  mothers  seem  to  desire  to  appropriate 
all  the  little  ones  of  the  colony.  A  mother 
eider  duck  is  said  to  be  so  greedy  of  a  large 
family  that  she  will  steal  the  eggs  from  a 
neighboring  nest  while  its  owner  is  absent  for 
food.  But  this  is  not  a  serious  matter,  for 
upon  her  own  departure  on  the  same  errand 
the  despoiled  becomes  the  despoiler,  and  so 
the  balance  is  maintained. 

Whether  birds  dissolve  partnership  after 
the  young  are  reared  and  fitted  for  life  or 


112  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

remain  mated  the  year  round,  or  even  for  life, 
is  a  mooted  question,  and  great  difference  of 
opinion  exists.  Many  close  observers  have  de- 
cided in  favor  of  the  life-marriage  of  birds,  at 
least  of  some  birds.  One  of  the  latest  is  Mr. 
Beebe,  of  the  New  York  Zoological  Park,  who 
says:  "The  number  of  kinds  of  birds  which  re- 
mained closely  associated  in  pairs  during  the 
winter  was  remarkable,  and  perhaps  indicated 
that  many  more  species  of  Mexican  birds  mate 
for  life  than  is  the  case  with  the  birds  of  our 
Northland."98 

"  There  is  no  lack  of  direct  evidence  in 
proof  of  union  for  life,"  says  a  lifelong 
nature  student.  "  Keen-eyed  naturalists,  wJio 
have  observed  certain  birds  for  many  succes- 
sive years,  and  have  at  length  come  to  know 
them  so  well  that  they  could  not  confuse  them 
with  others  of  the  same  species,  have  given  us 
their  guarantee  for  the  birds'  devotion;  and 
all  of  us  who  have  given  special  attention  to 
the  birds  which  have  come  under  our  notice 
must  be  led  to  the  same  conclusion."99 

Certain  South  American  birds,  the  tree- 
creepers,  or  wood-hewers,  are  said  to  mate  for 
life,  and  their  mutual  attachment  is  very 


HIS  AFFECTIONS  113 

marked.  So  fond  are  they  of  each  other  that 
during  the  long  days  when  incubation  re- 
quires the  constant  presence  of  one  of  the 
pair,  the  other  sits  patiently  at  the  entrance 
to  the  nest ;  and  later,  when  feeding  is  the 
business  of  the  day,  the  pair  go  together  in 
search  of  provisions  and,  if  unhappily  sepa- 
rated, they  make  the  air  ring  with  their  calls 
to  each  other.100 

Other  testimony  from  the  same  observer  is 
to  the  effect  that  the  burrowing  owls  of  the 
same  continent  are  most  loving  and  united 
pairs,  always  together,  standing  stiffly  erect 
at  the  mouth  of  their  home,  almost  touching 
each  other.101 

And  that  curious  fellow-creature,  the  crested 
screamer,  —  who,  according  to  Hudson,  does 
not  deserve  the  name, —  is  always  near  his 
mate,  even  when  large  flocks  are  seen  to- 
gether.102 

Some  of  the  birds  carry  family  devotion 
even  further.  A  South  American  bird  lives 
with  its  mate  the  year  round,  much  of  the 
time  with  their  grown-up  young  in  the  old 
home.  In  this  case  the  nest  must  be  a  very 
substantial  affair,  of  wood,  in  which  so  much 


114  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

building  material  is  used  that  the  bird  is 
known  among  the  natives  by  the  name  of  the 
firewood-gatherer.103 

There  are  cases  on  record  in  which  a  pair 
of  nesting  birds  have  been  caught  and  marked, 
—  some  with  a  bit  of  fine  wire  around  the  leg, 
others  with  a  small  strip  of  parchment  tied  to 
the  same  member,  —  and  in  which  the  birds 
have  both  returned  from  their  winter  absence 
to  the  same  place.104 

Mr.  Fish  tells  of  a  pair  of  golden-winged 
woodpeckers  who  came  to  the  same  nest  for 
four  years.  He  easily  recognized  both  birds. 
In  the  fourth  year  a  boy  shot  one,  and  the 
survivor  took  care  of  the  brood  alone,  suc- 
cessfully rearing  it ;  but  the  nest  was  never 
again  occupied.105 

Professor  Shaler  says  that  pigeons  mate  for 
life  even  in  domestication.106 

Brehm  tells  of  seeing  in  Nubia  a  pair  of 
storks  long  after  all  their  kind  had  migrated. 
To  find  the  cause  of  this  strange  conduct  he 
had  them  both  shot,  when  he  found  that  the 
female  had  a  broken  wing  and  could  not  fly, 
and  her  mate  would  not  desert  her.107 

Major  Bendire  believes  that  most  of  our 


HIS  AFFECTIONS  115 

hawks  and  owls  and  eagles  remain  paired 
throughout  life,  and  he  gives  evidence  in  the 
case  of  several  species. 108  Other  observers  have 
added  to  the  list  the  bluebird,  two  or  three 
sparrows,  among  them  the  delightful  song  spar- 
row, a  wren  or  two,  in  spite  of  their  irritable 
disposition,  the  dignified  cardinal  grosbeak, 
that  sweet  singer  of  the  fields  the  meadow- 
lark,  that  comical  woodpecker  the  flicker,  the 
brown  thrush  or  thrasher,  that  victim  of  pre- 
judice the  catbird,  and,  what  we  should  con- 
fidently expect,  some  of  our  calm  and  reserved 
thrushes. 

A  strong  proof  of  family  feeling  is  fur- 
nished in  cases  where  two  or  more  broods  are 
reared  in  a  season,  birds  of  the  first  brood 
helping  to  feed  and  train  their  younger 
brothers  and  sisters.  Several  cases  are  on 
record.  Mrs.  Treat's  story  of  bluebirds  an- 
noyed by  English  sparrows  has  been  already 
mentioned.  The  English  song  thrush  has 
more  than  one  brood,  and  an  English  writer 
says,  "  The  young  of  the  first  brood  of  the 
song  thrush,  when  they  can  fly  well  and  find 
all  their  own  food,  help  to  bring  up  the  young 
of  the  second  brood."109 


116  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

The  fondness  of  birds  in  captivity  for  peo- 
ple who  are  kind  to  them  and  make  com- 
panions of  them  is  really  pathetic,  —  pathetic 
because  human  beings  rarely  recognize  the 
fact  that  the  bird  loves  them,  and  are  exceed- 
ingly prone  to  ignore  it  and  often  to  wound 
the  little  heart  sorely.  "  A  parrot/'  says  one 
who  has  kept  many  of  them,  "  is  unfortunate 
indeed  to  belong  to  one  who  is  not  a  bird- 
lover,  where  he  is  regarded  as  merely  an  orna- 
ment to  amuse  visitors,  and  left  to  servants. 
He  becomes  joyless  and  irritable.  Almost  every 
parrot,  particularly  if  highly  gifted  and  lively, 
wishes  to  love  and  be  loved,  which  no  ama- 
teur should  forget.  Whoever  cannot  fulfill 
this  chief  condition  of  a  parrot's  well-being 
does  very  wrong  to  buy  one." 

"A  highly  gifted  parrot,  more  than  any 
other  creature,"  he  goes  on,  "  is  liable  to  be 
made  ill  or  even  to  die  from  the  effects  of 
mental  emotion,  and  this  not  only  from  terror 
but  from  longing  after  a  beloved  master  who 
petted  it,  or  after  a  feathered  companion."  ll° 

A  cockatoo,  says  the  same  writer,  who  can- 
not love  any  one  about  it  appears  cross  and 
distrustful,  but  this  only  shows  its  high  intel- 


HIS  AFFECTIONS  117 

lectual  talent ;  for,  while  a  gray  parrot  is  con- 
tented to  have  an  indifferent  understanding 
with  its  master,  a  cockatoo  must  either  love 
its  master  with  ardent  love  or  be  at  war  with 
him.111 

A  correspondent  wrote  me  of  her  pet  blue 
jay  that  "  he  was  almost  human  in  his  intelli- 
gence and  affection.  I  tried  to  let  him  loose, 
but  he  absolutely  refused  his  freedom,  and 
would  sit  upon  a  tree  and  scream  for  me  till 
I  came  out,  when  he  would  fly  down  to  my 
shoulder  and  rub  his  head  against  my  cheek 
like  a  kitten."112 

Almost  any  captive  bird's  affection  may  be 
won  by  kindness,  and  not  only  affection  but 
devoted  love,  —  love  that  is  sensitive,  and  even 
jealous,  sometimes  to  the  death  of  the  bird  who 
has  set  his  whole  heart  on  his  friend.  Touching 
instances  are  on  record.  The  bullfinch  is  said  to 
attach  himself  so  warmly  to  his  master  or  mis- 
tress as  to  show  great  distress  when  they  take, 
up  another  pet,  or  even  a  human  friend.  If  a 
rival  bird  is  persistently  noticed,  the  bullfinch 
has  been  seen  to  pine  away  and  die.  Our  own 
blue  jay  becomes  almost  as  passionately  at- 
tached, as  noted  in  the  anecdote  just  related. 


118  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

"  It  is  quite  an  easy  matter  to  break  the 
heart  of  a  bird,"  says  "A  Son  of  the 
Marshes."  "  I  would  rather  kill  with  my  own 
hand  any  pet  of  mine  than  give  it  up  to  any 
one,  unless  he  was  a  greater  lover  of  wild  crea- 
tures than  myself :  and  such  a  one,  I  fancy, 
would  be  hard  to  find."113 

"  There  is  an  impulse,  a  law,"  says  Maurice 
Thompson,  "  other  than  the  instinctive  move- 
ment towards  food  and  protection,  which 
causes  the  song-bird  to  get  close  to  man.  .  .  . 
Indeed,  all  the  lower  animals  are  capable  of 
loving  man,  and  many  of  them  have  often  and 
voluntarily  sought  to  show  such  affection."  m 

Mr.  Fish  tells  of  a  crow  fond  of  his  master, 
who  in  a  heavy  snowstorm  was  beaten  to  the 
ground  several  miles  from  home.  A  boy 
caught  him  and  clipped  his  wings  so  that  he 
could  not  fly.  All  winter  long  snow  covered 
the  ground,  but  in  March  it  went  off  with  a 
^heavy  rain,  and  the  poor  crow  started  on  foot 
for  home.  He  walked  all  those  miles  and 
found  his  way,  and  came  up  to  his  master  a 
poor,  tired,  bedraggled  bird.  His  master  re- 
cognized him  and  took  him  up,  and  the  crow 
went  nearly  wild  with  joy.  Never  again  would 


HIS  AFFECTIONS  119 

he  go  off  the  place,  though  after  the  next 
moult  he  could  fly  as  well  as  ever.115 

The  affection  for  his  mistress  of  the  robin 
"  Chupes,"  whose  story  I  have  told,  increased 
with  years.  Her  absence  for  a  few  hours  was 
enough  to  still  his  song  and  cause  him  to 
mope  sadly.  When  she  left  him  for  a  day  or 
more  he  would  neither  bathe  nor  sing,  nor 
even  eat,  but  would  retire  to  a  dark  closet 
and  remain  till  her  return,  when  he  would 
welcome  her  madly.  He  would  never  accept 
his  freedom,  but  delighted  to  accompany  her 
everywhere  out  of  doors,  ready  the  instant 
she  moved  to  fly  to  her.  When  he  became  ill 
he  was  not  contented  a  moment  away  from 
her,  and  at  last  he  died  in  her  hands.116 

Mrs.  Slosson  tells  a  charming  story  of  the 
attachment  of  a  parula  warbler  who  had  been 
stunned  by  flying  against  a  house,  and  taken 
in  and  fed  with  flies.  He  at  once  attached 
himself  to  her  in  the  most  loving  and  fearless 
way,  refusing  to  leave  her  even  when  out  of 
doors  in  perfect  freedom.  When  at  last  she 
was  forced  to  leave  him,  she  had  to  deceive 
him  and  steal  away  when  he  was  for  a  mo- 
ment out  of  sight.117 


120  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

That  birds  suffer  from  jealousy  needs  no 
proof  to  those  who  have  kept  caged  birds.  The 
introduction  of  a  stranger  often  sours  the 
temper  of  the  former  favorite,  destroys  his 
happiness,  sometimes,  if  there  is  opportunity, 
leads  to  murder,  and  not  infrequently  causes 
his  death. 

To  give  but  one  instance :  Two  singing 
canaries,  belonging  to  two  ladies  in  the  same 
house,  hung  beside  the  window  in  their  cages, 
one  a  small  affair  of  gilt  large  enough  for 
but  one  bird,  the  other  much  larger  and 
plainer.  The  owner  of  the  large  cage  bought 
a  mate  for  her  bird  and  placed  her  in  her  new 
home.  The  newcomer  was  expected  to  accept 
her  fate  and  be  thankful,  but  she  proved  to 
have  opinions  of  her  own.  She  noted  the  gay 
neighbor  across  the  way  and  plainly  decided 
to  have  a  choice  in  the  matter.  She  began  by 
uttering  a  sweet  call,  so  loud  that  even  the 
human  listeners  understood  it  was  not  ad- 
dressed to  the  bird  in  the  cage  with  her.  Her 
cage-mate  appreciated  it  at  once,  as  was  evi- 
dent. Her  call  and  the  answer  from  the  oppo- 
site neighbor  infuriated  him,  and  he  scolded 
roundly.  All  the  more  she  turned  her  atten- 


HIS  AFFECTIONS  121 

tion  to  the  gay  outsider,  who  answered  with 
joyous  surprise  and  much  singing.  For  several 
days  there  was  a  curious  and  very  human  ex- 
hibition of  jealousy  on  the  part  of  the  ne- 
glected owner  of  the  cage.  When  she  took 
much  notice  of  the  stranger  over  the  way,  her 
cage-mate  resented  it  with  scolding,  bluster- 
ing, and  at  night  refusing  her  a  place  on  the 
favorite  perch.  This  state  of  things  lasted  for 
days,  and  no  human  hand  was  raised  to  settle 
the  trouble,  for  no  one  suspected  the  depth  of 
feeling  in  those  little  hearts,  nor  dreamed  of 
the  tragedy  which  would  follow.  One  morn- 
ing both  birds  in  the  larger  cage  were  found 
in  a  terrible,  almost  dying,  condition,  having 
apparently  been  fighting  for  hours,  and  feath- 
ers were  scattered  all  over  the  floor  by  the 
violence  of  their  contest.  One  did  die,  and 
the  other  never  fully  recovered,  though  she 
lived  for  some  months. 

In  closing  this  subject  I  want  to  put  in  a 
word  for  the  caged  birds  which  I  am  sorry  to 
say  are  so  common  in  our  land.  Think  what 
suffering  must  be  endured  by  creatures  so 
delicate,  in  our  ordinary  careless  way  of  treat- 
ing them,  —  teased  by  children,  fed  and  at- 


122  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

tended  by  servants  (when  they  happen  to  think 
of  it) ;  sometimes  not  spoken  to  for  days  at  a 
time,  regarded  in  fact  almost  like  a  piece  of 
furniture ;  cramped  into  cages  so  small  they 
can  hardly  move  about ;  hung  in  the  burning 
sun  with  no  shade  for  their  poor  little  brains, 
or  placed  in  an  open  window  in  a  draught  by 
a  mistress  afraid  to  let  the  breezes  of  heaven 
touch  herself ;  fed  on  dry,  often  musty,  seed, 
with  no  variety,  which  to  birds  no  less  than 
to  men  is  the  spice  of  life  and  necessary  to 
their  health  as  well  as  their  happiness.  The 
wrongs  and  sufferings  endured  by  caged 
birds,  nearly  always  from  want  of  thought, 
are  enough  to  drive  a  bird-lover  mad. 


VII 

HIS  COURTSHIP 


Little,  we  suspect,  do  the  majority  of  men  and  women 
dream  that  what  they  please  in  their  ignorance  to  call 
"inferior  animals"  possess  hearts  and  heads,  feelings 
and  thoughts,  almost  identical  with  their  own. 

Birds,  even  small  birds,  fall  in  love  —  desperately  in 
love  —  madly  in  love  —  and  they  sometimes  even  love 
unto  death  —  aye,  little  birds  far  more  often  die  of 
broken  hearts  than  human  beings  do.  —  DR.  GEORGE 
HARLET,  F.  R.  S.,  Selborne  Society  Letters. 


VII 

HIS  COURTSHIP 

AT  no  time  is  the  resemblance  between  bird 
and  human  ways  more  apparent,  and  one  may 
say  more  amusing1,  than  in  that  interesting 
period  of  youthful  life,  that  season  of  alter- 
nate ecstasy  and  despair,  —  the  theme  of  most 
novels, — wooing  time.  There  is  scarcely  an 
idiosyncrasy  of  the  human  lover,  from  the 
savage  to  the  choicest  product  of  the  twen- 
tieth century,  but  has  its  counterpart  in  some 
feathered  lover. 

As  in  the  world  of  mankind,  the  responsi- 
bility of  wooing  devolves  upon  the  swain,  who 
must  please  and  win  the  beloved,  and  to  this 
end  he  is  equipped  with  varied  attractions, — 
beauty  of  person,  musical  ability,  or  a  talent 
for  entertaining  and  making  himself  agree- 
able. 

The  power  of  choice,  says  Audubon,  al- 
ways remains  with  the  demure  little  maiden, 
who  looks  on  and  observes  the  demonstrations 
of  her  admirer  and  quietly  makes  her  selec- 


126  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

tion.  Like  her  sister  in  silks,  she  is  prone  to 
be  capricious,  and  to  be  governed  in  her  deci- 
sion by  some  occult  reason,  sometimes  appar- 
ently by  no  reason  at  all.  Sometimes,  too,  on 
the  other  hand,  with  still  less  propriety  than 
people  in  their  sober  senses  can  discover,  one 
fair  maid  in  feathers  will  have  many  admirers, 
a  mob  around  her  all  the  time,  while  another 
of  the  same  "  set/'  just  as  lovely,  has  abso- 
lutely not  one. 

Nor  is  it  by  any  means  true,  as  we  have 
been  accustomed  to  think,  that  all  birds  are 
mated.  Close  observers  have  long  been  con- 
vinced that  there  are  always  single  birds,  both 
bachelors  and  maids,  doubtless  for  the  same 
reason  that  obtains  in  human  society,  —  they 
have  not  found  mates  to  their  taste. 

Courtship  in  the  bird  world,  as  in  the 
human,  is  a  critical  business,  often  tedious 
and  prolonged,  with  many  a  disappointment 
to  be  borne,  for,  with  them  as  with  us,  it  is  a 
matter  of  individual  liking. 

Nor  is  trouble  ended  with  courtship ;  cases 
of  uncongenial  unions,  of  summary  separa- 
tion, of  erratic  attachment,  have  been  seen  by 
careful  students  of  feathered  life.  "  Love 


HIS  COURTSHIP  127 

at  first  sight"  is  not  at  all  uncommon  even 
among  those  of  different  species ;  well-au- 
thenticated instances  more  than  one  are  on 
record  where  a  bird  on  meeting  a  stranger 
has  at  once  deserted  its  mate  and  gone  over 
to  the  newcomer.  So  also  cases  of  deliberate 
alienation  of  the  affections  from  the  legitimate 
object,  of  mad  jealousy  ending  in  murder, 
have  been  seen  and  reported  by  trustworthy 
witnesses.  Owing  to  the  difficulty  of  observ- 
ing wild  birds,  these  instances  are  for  the 
most  part  among  those  that  are  partly  domes- 
ticated. 

There  are  two  popular  ways  of  securing  a 
mate  in  birdland  :  first,  to  win  her,  which  may 
be  done  either  by  caresses  or  by  "  showing 
off  "  or  "  display  "  of  plumage,  or  by  perform- 
ances, such  as  strutting,  drumming,  dancing, 
etc. ;  or,  secondly,  to  take  her  by  force,  settling 
matters  by  driving  away  other  pretenders,  and 
by  fighting,  in  which  case  she  has  no  choice, 
but  is  the  prey  of  the  victor. 

In  the  great  variety  of  methods  employed, 
one  family  of  birds  is  unrivaled.  One  might 
paraphrase  a  familiar  old  saying  and  classify 
the  feathered  suitors  in  three  divisions,  — 


128  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

wooers,  bullies,  and  grouse.  For  that  family 
wherever  found,  from  the  poles  to  the  equator, 
from  Central  Africa  to  the  United  States,  is 
always  and  forever  one  of  marked  character- 
istics, of  idiosyncrasies  most  grotesque,  with 
its  strutting  and  bowing,  drumming,  dancing, 
and  crowing,  its  outlandish  poses,  and  its  awk- 
ward capers. 

Some  of  them  rustle  the  tail-feathers  like  a 
lady's  silk  train ;  some  fly  high  in  the  air  and 
croak ;  some  run  around  with  tail  spread  and 
wings  dragging,  or  with  breast  on  the  ground 
push  themselves  along  like  a  snowplow.  They 
ruffle  their  feathers,  twist  their  necks,  and 
utter  growls,  or  croaks,  or  whines,  or  roars. 
They  roll  over  and  over,  spring  into  the  air, 
in  fact,  act  like  candidates  for  a  mad-house. 

Some  blow  up  the  loose  skin  of  the  side  like 
an  orange,  as  our  own  prairie  chicken;  others 
puff  out  a  breast-bag  like  a  pocket,  after  the 
fashion  of  our  pectoral  sandpiper;  and  still 
others  fight  like  savages.  In  sober  truth,  there 
is  hardly  a  way  of  securing  a  mate  known  in 
the  world  of  birds  that  is  not  practiced  by  some 
member  of  this  family. 

One  of  the  most  famous  of  this  sort  of 


HIS  COURTSHIP  129 

wooer  is  the  argus  pheasant  of  Malay,  named 
for  the  many  eye-like  decorations  in  his  plum- 
age. This  bird  has  some  of  the  wing-feathers 
immensely  developed  and  ornamented  with  a 
long  row  of  ocelli,  or  eye-spots,  more  than  an 
inch  in  diameter  and  so  perfectly  shaded  that 
they  resemble  a  ball  lying  loose  in  a  socket, 
says  Darwin.  The  neighboring  feathers  are 
beautifully  striped  and  spotted  and  otherwise 
decorated.  When  the  bird  spreads  these 
highly  ornamental  wings  and  holds  them  for- 
ward so  that  their  tips  touch  the  ground,  with 
the  elegant  tail  spread  for  a  background,  he 
is  truly  a  gorgeous  spectacle,  and  when  he 
bows  gracefully  to  the  "  beloved  object "  it  is 
hard  to  see  how  any  female  pheasant  can  be 
obdurate. 

A  familiar  example  of  display  is  made  by 
our  familiar  peacock ;  even  the  common  tur- 
key "  struts  his  brief  hour,"  though  he  has 
no  gorgeousness  to  show.  The  well-known 
lyre-bird  of  Australia,  possessing  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  decorations  in  the  bird  world, 
not  content  to  rely  upon  his  beauty,  prepares 
a  small  hillock  in  the  brush,  where  he  tram- 
ples constantly,  uttering  loud  calls  and  imi- 


130  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

tations  of  the  notes  of  other  birds  and  even 
of  beasts.118 

When  a  certain  ptarmigan  or  snow-grouse 
of  the  Arctic  regions  goes  a-wooing,  he  ruf- 
fles every  feather  of  his  body,  spreads  his  tail, 
drags  his  wings,  lays  breast  on  the  ground, 
and,  pushing  himself  forward  by  his  feet, 
twists  his  neck  and  salutes  the  fair  one  whom 
he  desires  to  please  with  a  growl,  varying 
this  fascinating  display  by  astonishing  antics, 
leaping  into  the  air,  rolling  over  and  over,  etc. 
Let  no  one  laugh  at  this  peculiar  manner  of 
showing  devotion.  He  is  a  knightly  soul,  who 
will  give  his  life  for  his  love,  deliberately 
placing  himself  between  her  and  the  hunter.119 

Still  different  is  the  performance  of  a  Euro- 
pean bird,  the  blackcock  or  black  grouse,  a 
number  of  which  species,  it  is  said,  have  been 
domesticated  in  New  England  by  Mr.  Seward 
Webb  on  his  place  in  Vermont.  This  bird, 
about  the  size  of  our  partridge,  is  black  and 
very  wild.  His  reliance  in  courtship  is  upon 
his  agility.  Collecting  a  presumably  admiring 
flock  about  him,  he  entertains  them  with 
antics,  whirling  and  flinging  himself  about 
like  a  mad  creature,  varying  the  performance 


HIS  COURTSHIP  131 

by  strutting  and  crowing  at  the  top  of  his 
voice. 

As  active,  but  in  a  different  way,  is  a  bird 
from  the  north  of  Europe,  also  domesticated 
by  Mr.  Webb,  it  is  said.  He  is  one  of  the 
largest  of  the  grouse,  nearly  the  size  of  a 
turkey,  —  the  capercaillie.  This  bird's  per- 
formance is  a  dance,  and  he  labors  under 
the  disadvantage  of  wooing  while  snow  is  on 
the  ground,  so  that  his  dancing  takes  place 
on  the  branch  of  a  tree.  He  accompanies 
himself  with  song,  and  his  show  hours  are 
from  dawn  to  sunrise  and  from  sunset  till 
dark.  He  fluffs  out  his  plumage  and  begins 
with  notes  that  sound  like  "  pellep,  pellep, 
pellep,"  —  starting  slowly  and  increasing  in 
rapidity,  probably  as  long  as  he  can  hold  his 
breath,  for  it  ends  in  a  sort  of  gasp,  followed 
by  an  indrawn  breath,  while  his  head  is  thrown 
up,  eyes  partly  closed,  and  his  whole  appear- 
ance that  of  ecstasy.120  During  the  singing  he 
waltzes  around,  dances,  assumes  different  atti- 
tudes, and  puffs  his  feathers  into  the  wildest 
forms.  This  exhibition  seems  to  be  attractive 
to  the  wood-grouse  dames,  for  with  the  first 
notes  they  begin  to  collect,  to  look  on  and 


132  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

answer  in  hoarse  croaks.  Then  the  dancer 
comes  down  and  struts  among  them,  bowing, 
drooping  his  wings,  and  swelling  himself  out 
to  twice  his  natural  size,  all  the  time  waltzing 
around  and  uttering  a  smothered  gurgle. 

The  curious  wooing  of  a  species  of  plover, 
the  stone  curlew,  is  described  by  Mr.  Selous. 
The  pair  are  very  grave  and  dignified,  and  "  it 
is  fashionable  for  the  two  to  walk  side  by  side 
close  together  with  little  gingerly  steps,  as 
though  '  keeping  company.'  They  seem  very 
much  en  rapport  with  each  other,  also  to 
have  a  great  sense  of  their  mutual  importance, 
and,  above  all,  of  the  great  value  of  deport- 
ment. Suddenly  one  of  them  will  bend  stiffly 
forward  till  the  beak  nearly  touches  the 
ground,  the  tail  and  after  part  of  the  body 
elevated  in  the  air.  The  other  stands  by  and 
appears  interested  and  edified  by  the  per- 
formance, and  when  it  is  over,  both  walk  on 
as  before."121 

A  ludicrous  example  of  the  opera  bouffe 
style  of  fascinating,  comes,  as  might  be  an- 
ticipated, from  that  land  of  the  unexpected, 
China.  The  bird,  one  of  the  pheasants,  is 
ordinarily  a  personage  of  modest  and  dig- 


HIS  COURTSHIP  133 

nified  appearance,  and  he  hides  his  perform- 
ance in  the  secluded  retreats  of  the  Himalaya 
Mountains.  But  the  irrepressible  reporter 
has  sought  him  out  and  shown  him  up  in  his 
transports,  and,  moreover,  he  has  been  care- 
fully studied  in  the  London  Zoological 
Gardens. 

In  courtship  this  dignified-looking  bird 
blossoms  out  into  the  most  grotesque  figure 
imaginable.  Fleshy  horns  rise  on  his  head, 
hanging  wattles  swell  and  expand,  wings  open 
and  droop,  plumage  stands  out  all  over,  and 
the  possessor  of  all  this  glory  sinks  to  the 
ground  in  an  ecstasy.  After  a  few  moments 
of  this  dazzling  display  he  pulls  himself  to- 
gether, calmly  rises  to  his  feet,  shakes  himself 
into  his  normal  shape,  and  goes  about  his 
business,  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  which 
is  almost  more  funny  than  his  display  a  mo- 
ment before.122 

More  interesting,  if  less  startling,  than  the 
grouse  manners,  are  the  wooing  ways  of  some 
of  our  familiar  birds.  What  can  be  more 
charming  and  at  the  same  time  impressive 
than  the  method  of  the  dignified  great  horned 
owl?  There  are  no  poses  for  display,  no  capers 


134  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

to  astonish  the  maid  of  his  choice ;  he  is,  in 
fact,  almost  human  in  his  approaches ;  he 
wins  by  caresses.  He  quietly  draws  near  to 
his  beloved,  who  stands  on  a  branch  turning 
her  head  away  like  a  bashful  girl.  Fondly  he 
strokes  her  with  his  bill,  bowing  solemnly, 
touching  her  beak  with  his  —  kissing,  might 
one  say  ?  —  then  bowing  again  and  sidling  a 
little  closer  as  she  shyly  draws  away.  His 
demonstrations  are  received  with  apparent  in- 
difference, but  without  resentment,  and  after 
a  while  they  fly  slowly  away  side  by  side,  —  a 
wedding  journey  perhaps.123 

Gentle  and  caressing  also  is  the  wooing  of 
doves,  with  breast  pressed  to  breast  and  mouth 
to  mouth,  "  like  the  children  of  men,"  says  a 
sympathetic  observer. 

A  bewitching  way  to  win  a  mate  is  to 
charm  her  by  music.  This  is  the  fashion  of 
our  little  house^wren,  who  arrives  first  in  the 
nesting  region,  selects  a  site  for  the  home, 
and  then  draws  a  mate  out  of  the  vast  un- 
known by  his  charm  of  voice.  No  one  could 
do  it  better,  for  he  is  a  delightful,  tireless 
singer. 

Posing  seems  to  be  a  particularly  effective 


HIS  COURTSHIP  135 

way  of  impressing  feathered  femininity,  and 
it  is  significant  and  sometimes  surprising  to 
note  the  bird's  exact  appreciation  of  his  indi- 
vidual charm,  and  his  well-planned  manner  of 
displaying  it.  The  tiny  kinglet,  for  example, 
whose  one  spot  of  bright  color  is  a  narrow 
stripe  or  patch  of  ruby  on  top  of  the  head, 
expands  that  till  it  looks  like  a  ruby  crown, 
and  gives  him  a  distinguished  appearance. 

Our  flicker,  or  golden-winged  woodpecker, 
is  comical  in  almost  every  act  of  his  life,  and 
he  makes  himself  irresistible  by  sitting  up 
very  straight,  fluffing  out  his  beautiful  spotted 
breast  with  its  velvety  black  crescent,  and 
spreading  wings  and  tail,  showing  their  golden 
lining.  To  this  exhibition  he  adds  bowing 
right  and  left,  and  thus  displaying  his  last 
special  attraction,  the  rich  black  cheek  patches 
or  mustaches.  Sometimes,  perhaps  when  this 
display  fails  to  accomplish  its  object,  the 
flicker  becomes  more  demonstrative,  and  takes 
to  violence.  "For  hours,"  says  Mr.  Keyser, 
"  a  lover  would  pursue  the  object  of  his  af- 
fection around  and  around,  never  giving  her 
a  moment's  respite.  When  she  alighted  he 
would  fling  himself  upon  the  spot  where  she 


136  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

had  been,  for  she  had  to  hitch  away  to  avoid 
being  struck.  His  policy  seemed  to  be  to  take 
her  heart  by  storm ;  no  doubt  she  finally  said 
yes  merely  to  get  rid  of  him,  and  then  failed 
of  her  purpose.  After  courtship  has  passed 
the  first  stage,  and  she  has  grown  less  shy, 
the  bowings  and  scrapings  are  truly  ludi- 
crous." 124  The  downy  woodpecker  is  said  to 
adopt  the  same  tactics. 

A  flycatcher  of  the  South,  the  vermilion, 
whose  beauty  is  a  breast  of  that  brilliant  color, 
displays  that  peculiar  adornment  by  holding 
himself  poised  in  the  air  over  the  head  of  the 
duller-colored  personage  he  desires  to  charm. 
He  hovers  at  a  height  of  about  twenty  feet, 
with  every  feather  of  body  and  tail  standing 
up,  looking  to  irreverent  eyes  like  an  animated 
ball  of  feathers.125 

A  certain  plover  seen  by  Mr.  Selous,  having 
only  a  pair  of  gorgeous-colored  legs  to  pride 
himself  on,  approaches  his  Dulcinea  with  legs 
quivering  in  rapid  vibration  and  head  drawn 
up,  showing  his  snowy  breast.126 

Another  family  remarkable  for  display  is 
that  of  the  auks  and  puffins  of  the  north. 
These  birds,  with  no  bright-colored  or  abnor- 


HIS  COURTSHIP  137 

mal  plumage  development  to  show,  place  their 
hopes  on  certain  curious  excrescences  and 
colors  on  eyelids  and  beaks,  which  have  been 
described  and  illustrated  by  many  visitors  to 
that  country. 

The  horned  puffin,  ordinarily  an  unassum- 
ing personage  in  black  and  white,  arrays  him- 
self for  his  bridal  in  grotesque  style.  His  beak 
breaks  out  into  gay  red  and  yellow,  with 
orange-colored  rosettes  at  the  corners,  and  it 
also  becomes  nearly  twice  its  usual  size.  The 
whole  side  of  the  face  takes  on  a  white  mask, 
and  a  slender  horn  stands  up  from  the  eyelid. 
That  any  horned  puffiness  can  resist  such  a 
display  in  her  honor  is  not  to  be  imagined. 
The  tufted  puffin,  sometimes  called  sea  par- 
rot, even  surpasses  his  horned  brother.  The 
white  mask,  the  scarlet  rings  around  his  eyes, 
the  gorgeous  red  beak,  even  the  bright  yellow, 
coquettish  plumes  with  which  he  is  at  this 
time  adorned,  as  is  the  case  with  all  these  ex- 
traordinary decorations,  soon  drop  off  or  vanish 
and  the  birds  return  to  the  sober  black  and 
white  of  everyday  life.  These  puffins  are, 
according  to  Mr.  H.  W.  Elliott,  two  of  the 
greatest  scolds  in  feathers.  The  sound  of  do- 


138  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

mestic  contention  comes  up  from  their  inac- 
cessible burrows  in  a  constant  bellow.  It  is 
possible,  however,  that  Mr.  Elliott  did  not 
understand  their  language,  and  this  might  be 
ordinary  Puffinese.127 

The  common  cormorant,  another  bird  of 
the  shore,  is  a  droll  fellow  on  all  occasions, 
not  least  when  he  sits  demurely  perched  on  a 
rock,  looking,  as  some  one  aptly  describes  him, 
like  a  long-necked  black  bottle.  His  love-mak- 
ing is  unique.  First  he  displays  his  one  beauty, 
a  brilliant  orange  mouth-lining.  Stretching 
up  his  long  neck  and  opening  wide  his  beak 
that  the  splendid  effect  may  duly  impress,  he 
sinks  on  his  breast  to  the  ground,  as  if  unable 
to  stand  in  the  presence  of  his  charmer,  with 
wide-spread  tail  turned  forward  over  his  back 
and  head  turned  backward  to  meet  it,  a  most 
grotesque  figure.  Such  devotion  usually  com- 
pletes the  conquest,  and  the  wooed  responds 
by  going  slowly  up  to  him  and  caressing  his 
throat  with  her  bill.  Occasionally,  however, 
this  astonishing  effort  is  unsuccessful;  the 
maiden  is  not  impressed  and  stands  off  with 
utmost  indifference.128 

Another   bird   whose  mouth-lining  is  his 


HIS   COURTSHIP  139 

charm  is  the  kittiwake  gull,  so  named,  says 
Newton,  from  the  plaintive  cries  which  are 
heard  almost  constantly  where  these  birds 
congregate.  This  gull's  mouth  and  throat  in- 
side, and  even  the  tongue,  are  the  most  brilliant 
red.  In  this  case  the  female  takes  a  part,  and 
both  birds  open  their  mouths  to  their  utmost 
extent,  turning  their  heads  towards  each  other 
and  uttering  a  shrieking  cry.129 

As  an  example  of  the  savage  style  of  woo- 
ing by  bullying,  continued,  too,  after  do- 
mestic life  is  begun,  may  be  mentioned  our 
familiar  red-winged  blackbird,  who  bullies 
his  mate  till  I  have  no  doubt  she  is  relieved 
when,  after  the  young  are  on  the  wing,  he 
leaves  her  and  returns  to  his  bachelor  life 
with  a  flock  of  his  confreres.  Perhaps,  indeed, 
she  plucks  up  enough  spirit  to  drive  him  away. 

Wooing  by  the  chase  is  the  method  of  some 
of  the  ducks  and  woodpeckers.  The  idea  seems 
to  be  to  tire  out  the  chosen  one,  and  make 
her  accept  him  "to  get  rid  of  him,"  as  it 
is  sometimes  said  a  human  sister  will  do ;  for 
the  too  ardent  suitor,  sometimes  accompanied 
by  several  rivals,  chases  her  for  hours  till  it 
seems  that  both  birds  must  be  exhausted. 


140  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

A  popular  method  of  pleasing  is  by  the 
dance :  the  long  legs  of  cranes  and  ostriches 
appear  to  predispose  to  this  form  of  enter- 
tainment, but  length  of  limb  is  not  indispen- 
sable. The  dancing  parties  of  our  prairie  hens 
have  often  been  described,  as  has  also  the 
more  remarkable  performance  of  a  South 
American  bird,  the  cock-of-the-rock,  and  Wal- 
lace's description  of  the  dancing  parties  of 
the  bird  of  paradise,  which  may  or  may  not 
be  wooing,  are  well  known. 

The  ruff,  a  bird  of  Europe  resembling  our 
sandpipers  in  his  normal  state,  is  adorned  at 
this  important  time  in  his  life  with  a  large 
ruff  of  feathers.  His  performance  takes  the 
form  of  a  mock  fight,  in  which  he  transforms 
himself  into  a  very  ridiculous  figure.  The  ruff 
expands  into  a  frill  that  sweeps  the  ground 
and  forms  a  shield  to  protect  his  body  from 
accident  while  exchanging  incivilities  with  a 
rival. 

A  pretty  feature  of  bird  attentions,  which 
may  often  be  seen  among  captive  birds  as 
well  as  among  the  free  by  close  observers,  is 
that  of  tendering  an  offering  to  the  chosen  one. 
The  gift  is  neither  flowers  nor  candy  —  the 


HIS  COURTSHIP  141 

human  equivalent  —  but  a  delicate  morsel  of 
food,  which  the  suitor  places  tenderly  in  the 
mouth  of  his  "  ladie-love,"  and  which  she  re- 
ceives often  with  the  wing-fluttering  of  the 
nestling,  and  sometimes  with  a  sort  of  "  baby- 
talk."  This  has  been  seen  in  the  arctic  skua 
by  Mr.  Selous,  and  many  times  in  more  famil- 
iar birds  by  myself.130 

It  remains  for  the  youngest  continent  to 
furnish  examples  of  wooing  that  emulate  the 
ways  of  civilized  man.  Heretofore  we  have 
seen  mostly  only  the  showing  off  of  the  lover, 
while  the  beloved  looks  on  as  a  spectator,  but 
now  we  come  to  the  more  advanced  way,  where 
the  wooed  takes  part  in  the  amusement.  The 
Australian  bower-bird  is  the  suitor  who  builds 
a  dance-hall  and  enjoys  it  with  his  prospec- 
tive partner.  The  structure  itself  with  its  re- 
markable adornments  has  been  described,  but 
it  is  only  of  late  that  the  birds  have  been  seen 
to  use  it,  running  after  and  chasing  each  other 
through  it,  picking  up  and  carrying  about  a 
gay  feather  or  a  bright  leaf,  with  fine  plum- 
age-display and  varied  cries. 

More  elaborate  even  than  the  bower  of 
Australia  is  the  tent- shaped  erection  of  a  bird 


142  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

of  New  Guinea  named  the  gardener-bird. 
Though  classed  as  a  bird- of -paradise,  he  is 
plainly  dressed  himself.  He  "builds  at  the 
foot  of  a  small  tree  a  kind  of  hut  or  cabin 
some  two  feet  in  height,  roofed  with  orchid- 
stems  that  slope  to  the  ground,  regularly  radi- 
ating from  the  central  support,  which  is  covered 
with  a  conical  mass  of  moss,  and  sheltering  a 
gallery  round  it.  One  side  of  this  hut  is  left 
open."  Before  the  entrance  is  arranged  a  lawn 
of  moss,  and  in  this  are  placed  flowers  and 
other  decorations  which  are  kept  fresh  by 
constant  renewal.  There  is  no  doubt  that  this 
is  a  hall  of  pleasure  and  not  the  nest.131 
Of  this  bird's  wooing  ways  nothing  has  been 
reported.  The  human  residents  are  of  a  low 
grade  and  more  civilized  observers  do  not  often 
go  there. 

Shah1    we   not   on   the   whole   agree  with 
Shakespeare  that  — 

The  lunatic,  the  lover  and  the  poet 
Are  of  imagination  all  compact  ? 


vm 

HIS  HOME 


The  conscious  happiness  of  the  love  and  wedded  life 
of  birds  appears  to  us  worthy  of  our  envy.  —  ALFRED 
EDMUND  BREHM,  From  North  Pole  to  Equator. 

Rooks  are  paired  all  the  year.  On  the  ground  couples 
alight  near  each  other,  on  trees  they  perch  near  each 
other,  and  in  the  air  they  fly  side  by  side.  —  RICHARD 
JEFFERIES,  The  Open  Air. 

All  our  endeavors  or  wit  cannot  so  much  as  reach  to 
represent  the  nest  of  the  least  birdlet,  its  contexture, 
beautie,  profit,  and  use.  —  MONTAIGNE. 


VIII 

HIS   HOME 

THE  home  life  of  the  bird  is  a  subject  on 
which  few  persons,  if  indeed  any,  are  com- 
petent at  this  day  to  speak.  For,  contrary  to 
the  common  opinion,  the  home  life,  that  is 
the  associated  life  of  the  family,  continues 
through  the  year  with  many,  possibly,  as  we 
may  discover  later,  with  most,  species.  This 
fact  of  the  permanent  union  we  are  just  be- 
ginning to  recognize,  and  it  must  be  left  to 
future  observers  to  learn  more. 

We  can  however  speak  with  some  confidence 
of  the  bird's  home  at  the  only  time  in  his  life 
when,  according  to  our  ideas,  he  has  a  home, 
that  is,  a  fixed  habitation,  —  the  time  when 
the  demands  of  helpless  infancy  necessitate  a 
cradle. 

This  period  of  his  life  is  especially  interest- 
ing to  the  student  of  bird  habits,  for  it  is  his 
opportunity.  At  that  time  alone  is  the  bird 
confined  to  one  locality,  where  he  may  always 
be  found ;  and  in  addition  to  that  advantage, 


146  THE   BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

the  emotions  of  the  season  and  the  cares  and 
anxieties  incident  to  family  life  bring  out  the 
individuality,  the  charm,  the  idiosyncrasies  of 
his  character.  Without  a  knowledge  of  that 
time  one  whole  side  of  the  bird's  nature  is 
unknown  to  the  student. 

Noteworthy,  also,  is  the  fact  that  at  this 
period  of  the  bird's  life  the  fortunate  student 
may  hear  the  wonderful  performance  which  I 
have  always  called  the  whisper  song.  In  my 
experience,  this  low  undertone  song  whenever 
I  have  heard  it — and  in  my  sort  of  study  I 
have  had  that  supreme  happiness  many  times 
— has  been  the  most  rapturous  song  of  the 
bird  who  delivered  it,  having  an  absolutely 
inexpressible  tenderness  of  tone  and  manner 
that  moves  one  to  the  depths. 

One  is  not  surprised  to  hear  these  ineffable 
strains  from  the  reserved  birds  of  our  wild- 
woods,  the  hermit,  olive-backed,  and  Wilson's 
thrushes,  whose  serene  evening  song  is  one  of 
rapture  and  repose,  or  from  that  mysterious 
family  the  solitaires,  whose  marvelous  ordinary 
song  arouses  the  enthusiasm  of  the  most  pro- 
saic listener ;  but  a  similar  rhapsody  from  the 
matter-of-fact  oriole,  the  somewhat  clumsy 


HIS  HOME  147 

but  charming  grosbeak,  the  rollicking  blue  jay, 
and  even  from  our  familiar  everyday  friend 
the  robin,  is  a  genuine  surprise  though  a 
delightful  one,  and  moves  one  to  say  with 
Miehelet,  "  If  he  has  not  a  soul,  who  will 
answer  to  me  for  the  human  soul  ?  " 

A  few  writers  have  spoken  of  the  whisper 
song.  To  cite  but  one,  Mr.  Warren,  who  made 
close  acquaintance  with  a  Canada  jay  during 
the  nesting  period :  "  On  pleasant  days  he 
trilled  from  a  spruce  top  a  song  of  sweetly 
modulated  notes  wholly  new  to  my  ears.  He 
always  sang  sotto  voce  and  it  required  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  songster  to  realize  that 
he  was  the  origin  of  those  notes  which  seemed 
to  come  from  somewhere  up  in  the  towering 
pines  which  surrounded  this  strip  of  swamp, 
so  lost  was  the  melody  in  the  whispering, 
murmuring  voices  of  the  pines." 132 

It  may  be  thought  that  in  the  nest  of  the 
bird  there  can  be  no  resemblance  to  the  elab- 
orate structures  we  call  our  homes,  but  it  is 
an  interesting  fact  that  when  closely  studied 
there  will  be  found  as  much  variety  in  them 
as  in  human  habitations.  From  the  "dug- 
out," or  underground  hut,  to  the  castle  with 


148  THE  BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

its  security,  one  may  match  the  bird  with 
the  human  dwelling,  and,  considering  the  dif- 
ference between  the  wants  and  the  resources 
of  the  two  races,  the  discrepancies  will  be 
found  surprisingly  small. 

The  structures  may  readily  be  classified. 
Beginning  with  the  underground  dwelling 
corresponding  to  the  "  dug-out "  of  the  West, 
most  familiar  perhaps  of  the  little  homes  ex- 
cavated with  so  much  labor  and  care  in  the 
ground  is  that  of  the  common  belted  king- 
fisher. One  would  never  suspect  that  this 
beautiful  fellow  in  his  dainty  blue  and  white 
suit  would  choose  to  dig  out  a  retreat  in  the 
solid  earth.  The  entrance  to  the  kingfisher 
home  is  usually  in  the  bank  of  a  river  or 
pond,  from  which  he  gets  his  food.  The 
doorway  is  three  or  four  inches  wide  and 
often  concealed  by  bushes  or  weeds.  From 
the  entrance  a  passage  six  or  eight  feet  long, 
often  turning  this  way  or  that  to  get  around 
stones  or  roots,  leads  to  the  living-room. 
This  is  round  with  a  domed  roof,  and  must 
be  secure  from  all  enemies  except  man.  It 
is  sometimes  carpeted  with  the  snowy  bones 
and  scales  of  fishes  that  have  furnished  the 


HIS  HOME  149 

meals  of  the  family,  and  when  light  is  let  in 
upon  it,  presents  a  beautiful  appearance,  look- 
ing like  frosted  silver.133 

Our  comical  little  burrowing  owl  (wrongly 
named,  since  he  deserves  no  credit  for  the 
dug-out  in  which  he  lives)  avails  himself  of 
the  labors  of  a  strenuous  neighbor.  This  is 
the  prairie-dog,  who,  having,  like  some  unfor- 
tunates of  the  human  family,  a  "mania  for 
work,"  excavates  long  passages  with  many 
rooms,  far  more  than  suffice  for  his  modest 
needs,  and  the  canny  little  owl,  with  the  wis- 
dom popularly  attributed  to  his  family,  calmly 
establishes  himself  in  one  of  the  superfluous 
chambers,  and  there  rears  his  droll  little  ones, 
maintaining,  so  far  as  known,  the  most  ami- 
cable relations  with  his  landlord.  It  is  whis- 
pered, however,  that  he  has  been  seen  to  as- 
sume superiority  over  his  amiable  four-footed 
landlord,  and  sometimes  to  hold  his  position 
at  the  entrance  to  their  common  habitation, 
even  against  the  rightful  owner. 

Other  dwellers  on  the  wide  prairies  not  so 
welcome  nor  so  well-bred  as  the  owl  also  covet 
these  snug  retreats.  One  is  the  rattlesnake.  It 
was  formerly  supposed  that  the  three — beast, 


150  THE  BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

bird,  and  reptile — dwelt  together  in  harmony 
under  one  roof,  so  to  speak.  But  later  obser- 
vations have  dispelled  that  pleasing  illusion, 
and  it  is  now  known  that  the  reptile,  at  least, 
is  an  unwelcome  guest.  A  man  who  had  been 
a  cowboy  and  lived  on  the  desert  for  years, 
observing  with  great  interest  the  animal  life 
about  him,  is  authority  for  the  statement  that 
when  a  rattler  gets  possession  of  a  prairie-dog 
burrow,  the  animal  moves  out,  and  fills  up  the 
doorway  with  earth,  crowding  it  down  tightly, 
and  thus  making  the  intruder  a  prisoner. 
As  the  snake  has  no  tools  for  digging,  the 
usurped  lodging  is  supposed  to  be  his  grave. 

Another  bird  who  chooses  the  safety  of 
underground  and  digs  out  his  retreat  himself 
is  the  sand  martin,  or  bank  swallow,  whose 
tunnels,  or  the  entrances  to  them,  are  a  com- 
mon sight  in  suitable  banks. 

That  droll  little  fellow  creature,  the  puffin, 
is  also  a  lover  of  solitude  and  darkness.  His 
enormous  beak,  indeed,  seems  made  for  dig- 
ging, and,  with  his  formidable  foot  to  aid,  he 
is  said  to  throw  out  the  earth  in  a  shower  as 
he  works  his  way  in.  It  is  recorded  that  the 
tunnel  is  made  by  the  male,  who,  lying  on  his 


HIS  HOME  151 

back,  digs  with  the  beak  and  casts  out  the 
earth  with  his  feet.  Wonderful,  indeed,  are 
the  nesting-time  ways  of  these  social  puffins. 
A  celebrated  German  naturalist  who  visited  the 
Bird  Bergs  of  Lapland  gives  a  graphic  account 
of  them.  One  of  the  most  interesting  settle- 
ments was  a  hillside  riddled  with  the  excava- 
tions of  the  birds.  As  the  travelers  stepped 
on  the  ground,  birds  began  to  come  out  of 
their  doors;  hundreds  of  thousands,  he  says, 
filled  the  earth  and  the  air.  Razor-billed  auks 
and  guillemots  were  there  in  myriads  also.  He 
was  absolutely  confused  and  made  dizzy  by  the 
sight  and  the  sound.  These  birds,  who  look  so 
stiff  and  wooden  in  pictures,  he  found  to  be 
lively,  graceful,  and  in  constant  motion.  They 
paid  no  attention  to  him,  but  when  a  bird  of 
prey  came  to  see  what  all  the  excitement  was 
about,  they  recognized  him  at  once,  and  threw 
themselves  as  one  bird  into  the  sea.  These 
hardy  fellows,  except  when  nesting,  are  said  to 
spend  their  whole  lives  in  the  open  sea,  defy- 
ing the  severest  winter  and  the  most  violent 
storms.134 

Some  of  our  little  brothers  who  live  on  the 
ground  make   their  homes   less   conspicuous 


152  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

by  forming  a  roof  over  them,  producing  a 
domed  nest.  Among  the  most  interesting  is 
the  water  ouzel,  or  American  dipper,  of  the 
western  side  of  the  continent.  He  is  eminently 
a  water-lover,  and  is  found  among  the  moun- 
tains, in  and  about  the  streams  that  dash  and 
tumble  down  their  sides.  In  such  places  the 
ouzel  is  a  permanent  resident,  never  migrat- 
ing to  a  warmer  climate,  as  happy  in  the  cold 
as  in  the  heat,  as  much  at  home  under  water 
as  over  it.  He  runs  and  flies  and  picks  up  his 
food  at  the  bottom  of  the  rushing  brooks  as 
easily  as  other  birds  do  in  the  air,  and,  accord- 
ing to  his  warm  lover  Mr.  Muir,  he  sings  the 
year  round,  even  on  the  ice  and  in  blinding 
storms,  when  his  feathered  neighbors  seek  the 
most  sheltered  spots  and  sit  shivering  in 
patience  for  the  storm  to  pass. 

John  Muir  has  found  a  congenial  spirit  in 
this  bird  and  has  written  an  account  of  him 
which  is  one  of  the  most  exquisite  tributes  to 
a  bird  I  have  ever  read.135  The  song  of  the 
water  ouzel  is  a  true  water  song,  the  babble 
of  brooks  set  to  music.  And  the  nest  is  ex- 
tremely picturesque,  being  a  small,  covered  hut 
of  green  mosses,  placed  where  the  spray  of  a 


HIS  HOME  153 

fall  sprinkles  it  and  keeps  the  moss  green  and 
growing  and  ferns  and  other  damp-loving 
plants  fresh  beside  it.  Sometimes  the  little 
home  is  behind  a  sheet  of  falling  water, 
through  which  the  bird  must  dash  at  every 
visit.  But  falling  water  is  a  joy  to  this  lovely 
bird.  Dr.  Merriam  told  me  of  an  ouzel  near 
whose  home  he  once  camped.  On  tossing  from 
his  cup  a  few  drops  of  water  the  bird  flew  to 
meet  them  as  if  he  wanted  to  get  under  the 
little  shower.  To  test  it,  the  Doctor  tossed  out 
more  water,  when  the  bird  again  dashed  out 
into  it,  and  as  long  as  he  continued  the  experi- 
ment, the  bird  never  failed  to  respond.  He  is 
a  bird  that  is  not  afraid  to  go  wherever  a 
stream  may  go,  and  to  sing  wherever  a  stream 
sings,  says  his  lover  Mr.  Muir. 

The  oven-bird  of  our  Eastern  woods  makes 
a  domed  nest  so  well  concealed  that  it  is  one 
of  the  most  difficult  to  find.  The  roof  is 
formed  of  dry  leaves,  etc.,  gathered  from  the 
forest-floor,  of  which  it  has  every  appearance 
of  being  a  part. 

Another  familiar  bird  who  builds  a  domed 
nest,  though  not  on  the  ground,  is  the  magpie 
of  the  West.  This  bird  places  the  structure 


154  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

in  a  tree,  a  great  mass  nearly  as  big  as  a 
bushel  basket,  with  a  roof  almost  as  solid  as 
the  nest-support  itself,  and  an  opening  on 
each  side  to  allow  of  going  in  and  out.  It  is 
curious  and  interesting  to  see  a  small  grove 
of  low  trees  —  oak-brush  it  is  called  in  Utah 

—  with  a  number  of  these  bulky  nests  near 
together,  a  sort  of  village,  the  magpie  being 
a  social  bird,  fond  of  neighbors. 

In  such  a  grove  I  once  had  the  delight 
of  being  an  unsuspected  observer,  —  having 
concealed  myself  while  the  bird  was  absent, 

—  and  there  I  heard  the  magpie  song,  the 
sweet  notes  reserved  strictly  for  the  domestic 
circle.136 

Our  common  meadowlark  makes  the  domed 
nest  in  the  grass  of  meadows,  and  adds  to  its 
security  by  a  long  passage,  often  covered  also. 

The  domed  nests  already  mentioned  might 
be  said  to  correspond  to  the  huts  so  common 
among  the  native  races  of  Africa,  but  the 
red  oven-bird  of  South  America  goes  a  step 
farther  and  builds  an  adobe  house.  The 
oven-bird  begins  building  the  nest  a  long 
time  before  it  is  wanted,  so  that  it  becomes 
very  hard  in  the  hot  sun  of  that  country.  It 


HIS  HOME  155 

is  made  of  mud  mixed  with  bits  of  straw, 
horsehair,  and  fibrous  roots.  The  walls  are 
thick,  and  when  well  dried  are  almost  as  solid 
as  brick.  A  central  partition  rises  nearly  to  the 
roof  inside,  and  in  the  back  room  the  nest  of 
soft  grasses  is  placed.137 

At  the  opposite  extreme  from  this  heavy 
structure  are  the  light  and  airy  hanging  nests, 
of  which  there  are  many.  Every  one  knows 
the  hammock  of  the  orioles,  —  the  Baltimore 
and  orchard  of  the  East  and  the  hooded  and 
Bullock's  of  the  West,  —  woven  of  fine  fibres 
and  hung  to  the  branch  of  a  tree,  or,  in  the 
case  of  the  Western  birds,  often  to  the  broad 
leaves  of  a  fan  palm. 

A  beautiful  specimen  of  the  hooded  oriole's 
nest  now  before  me  is  made  of  the  loose 
thread-like  fibres  which  detach  themselves 
from  the  edge  of  the  leaves  of  the  fan  palm, 
and  are  much  used  by  the  birds  of  southern 
California.  It  is  ingeniously  sewed  to  the  under 
side  of  the  broad  leaf,  holes  being  made  and 
the  fibre  passed  through  and  over  the  rib  of 
the  leaf.  In  this  cosy  nest  a  family  was  safely 
reared  last  summer. 

In  a  country  where  snakes  and  monkeys 


156  THE   BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

abound,  there  are  hanging  nests  of  more 
elaborate  construction  than  those  of  our  ori- 
oles. Such,  for  example,  is  that  of  a  Brazilian 
bird,  which  is  said  to  be  suspended  by  a  cord 
woven  of  long  thread-like  roots  into  a  fabric 
of  great  strength.  These  birds  are  said  also 
to  choose  trees  already  occupied  by  wasps 
and  their  nests,  and  doubtless  these  fiery 
fellows  are  a  protection  from  monkeys  and 
snakes. 

The  most  curious  hanging  nest  is  reported 
to  be  made  by  a  swift  of  Guatemala  (Panyp- 
tila  sancti-hieronymi),  composed  entirely  of 
seeds  held  together  by  saliva,  and  by  it  hung 
from  the  under  surface  of  a  rock.  The  struc- 
ture measures  two  feet  long  and  about  six 
inches  in  diameter,  with  the  entrance  at  the 
lower  end  and  the  hollow  for  the  eggs  at  the 
top.138 

An  altogether  unique  nest,  especially  when 
contrasted  with  these  elaborate  woven  struc- 
tures, is  that  of  the  parula  warbler,  one  of 
which  is  in  my  possession.  It  is  in  a  hanging 
tuft  of  the  long  gray  moss  that  grows  on 
dead  trees.  The  tiny  bird  pushes  herself  in- 
side the  selected  natural  tuft,  draws  together 


HIS  HOME  157 

a  few  of  the  strands  to  form  a  sort  of  cup, 
and,  often  without  lining  or  other  prepara- 
tion, takes  possession  and  rears  her  little 
family.  So  slightly  is  the  moss  disturbed 
that  no  one  suspects  a  nest,  and  it  is  one  of 
the  most  difficult  of  all  to  find  by  looking. 
Sometimes  this  bird  makes  a  more  elaborate 
home,  and  sometimes  again  she  puts  a  lining 
in  it,  but  perhaps  the  most  usual  form  is  that 
described,  in  which  a  family  was  safely  reared 
a  few  years  ago.  The  bird  is  plentiful  in  the 
spruce  woods  of  northern  Maine. 

The  domestic  life  of  the  sea-birds  who  live 
in  great  communities,  sometimes  many  thou- 
sands together  on  an  island,  has  been  little 
studied,  but  is  very  interesting.  The  birds 
seem  usually,  so  far  as  authentic  accounts 
have  been  given,  to  live  peaceably  together,  to 
be  united  against  enemies,  to  help  one  another 
in  trouble,  and  to  adopt  and  rear  with  their 
own  the  orphans  of  the  flock. 

Many  of  these  bird  cities  have  been  visited 
and  described.  Captain  Ingraham  has  given 
us  an  interesting  account  of  a  flamingo  city,139 
and  Mr.  Frank  Chapman  spent  some  time 
during  the  nesting  season  studying  a  flamingo 


158  THE  BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

colony  on  an  island  on  the  Atlantic  Coast. 
Hidden  in  a  cleverly  constructed  tent  made  of 
a  large  umbrella  with  curtains,  and  placed  in 
the  heart  of  the  city,  he  had  an  excellent  op- 
portunity to  observe  the  birds  and  their  man- 
ners, and,  what  was  to  his  mind  more  impor- 
tant, to  photograph  them  in  all  their  eccentric 
movements.  When  the  elders  were  abroad, 
Mr.  Chapman  walked  about  among  the 
youngsters,  which  were,  like  civilized  babies, 
dressed  in  white.  All  this  time,  too,  he  was 
collecting  representative  specimens  of  every 
age,  with  which  to  form  a  fine  "  bird  group  " 
in  the  American  Museum  of  Natural  History, 
which  will  show  the  home  life  of  these  re- 
markable birds  for  years  to  come.140 

Birds  on  unvisited  islands  are  usually  not 
afraid  of  man.  When  a  party  visited  the  island 
of  Laysan  in  the  Pacific  Ocean  the  birds  re- 
ceived them  with  indifference  and  even  curi- 
osity. Mr.  Fisher  says :  "  We  were  impressed 
by  two  striking  facts, — the  great  numbers  of 
birds  and  their  surprising  tameness.  They 
seemed  little  put  out  by  our  presence,  and 
pursued  their  ordinary  duties  as  if  we  were 
a  part  of  the  landscape.  .  .  .  While  we  sat 


HIS  HOME  159 

working,  not  infrequently  the  little  warbler 
would  perch  on  our  table  or  chair  backs.  .  .  . 
As  for  the  sea-birds,  there  was  scarcely  a 
species  that  seriously  objected  to  our  close 
approach,  or  at  any  rate  departed  when  we 
attempted  to  photograph  them.  .  .  .  The 
albatrosses  were  astonishingly  fearless,  and 
would  sometimes  walk  up  and  examine  some 
portion  of  our  belongings  as  if  they  had 
known  us  always." 141 

Not  all  the  residents  of  bird  cities  are  so 
indifferent  to  intruders.  A  colony  of  Frank- 
lin's rosy  gulls  in  Minnesota  visited  by  Dr. 
Koberts  extended  to  him  a  startling  recep- 
tion, hardly  to  be  called  a  welcome.  But 
these  birds  were  acquainted  with  the  ways  of 
ordinary  visitors  and  knew  what  to  expect. 
This  was  their  reception  :  "  With  one  accord 
the  whole  colony  came  streaming  towards  us, 
a  few  in  the  lead,  but  hundreds  in  the  rear, 
until  we  were  surrounded,  and  accompanied 
the  balance  of  the  way  by  an  immense  wildly 
excited  escort  that  by  every  means  known  to 
gulldom  protested  against  the  intrusion  and 
tried  in  vain  to  impede  our  further  progress. 
The  frenzied,  distressed  notes  and  the  furious 


160  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

dashes  of  the  birds  as  they  all  but  struck  our 
heads  excited  both  our  pity  and  our  admi- 


ration." 


The  doctor  gives  an  interesting  study  of 
the  ways  of  the  gull  babies,  who  even  in  the 
cradle  are  the  most  restless  and  uneasy  of 
birds.  "  These  pink-footed  little  balls  of  down 
now  and  then  remain  quietly  in  the  home 
nest,  basking  in  the  warm  sunshine,  but  more 
frequently  they  are  no  sooner  dry  from  the 
egg  than  they  start  to  wander.  A  few  are 
content  to  go  no  farther  than  the  broad, 
sloping  side  of  the  nest,  and  there  they  may 
be  seen  quietly  dozing  or  tumbling  about 
among  the  stems  of  the  rushes  as  they  ex- 
plore the  intricacies  of  their  little  island.  The 
greater  number,  however,  put  boldly  out  to 
sea  and  drift  away  with  the  breeze.  ...  A 
gust  of  wind  a  trifle  harder  than  usual,  or  a 
bump  against  a  floating  reed  stem,  and  over 
they  go,  bottom-side  up,  only  to  come  quickly 
right  again,  dry  and  fluffy  as  ever. 

"  Their  departure  from  the  nests  was  appar- 
ently ever  against  the  will  of  the  old  birds, 
and  many  were  the  scoldings  and  severe  the 
punishments  meted  out  to  these  venturesome 


HIS  HOME  161 

offspring.  The  frenzy  of  the  old  birds  as  the 
chicks  neared  the  open  lake  was  pitiful  to  be- 
hold. With  might  and  main  they  endeavored 
to  turn  them  back.  ...  At  last,  their  pro- 
tests of  no  avail,  a  resort  is  had  to  more  vig- 
orous measures,  and  seizing  the  drifting  chicks 
by  the  nape  of  the  neck  with  the  powerful 
beak,  they  are  jerked  bodily  and  roughly  out 
of  the  water  and,  from  a  height  of  three  or 
four  feet,  thrown  as  far  as  possible  in  the 
desired  direction,  this  being  repeated  again 
and  again,  till  the  youngsters  are  at  last  flung 
into  some  nest,  exhausted  and  bleeding  from 
the  blows  and  pinches  inflicted  by  the  sharp 
bills  of  the  parent  birds. 

"  So  far  as  the  disciplining  and  care  of  the 
young  went,  there  existed  a  curious  spirit  of 
communism  among  these  gulls.  An  old  gull 
cared  for  whatever  young  gulls  fell  in  its  way, 
and  when  the  stray  chicks  chanced  to  clamber 
up  into  a  strange  nest,  they  were,  after  a  few 
admonitory  squawks,  welcomed  as  one  of  the 
household,  and  scolded,  pecked,  and  fed,  just 
as  though  the  foster  parent  had  laid  the  eggs 
from  which  they  were  hatched.  Occasionally 
we  saw  old  gulls  already  in  possession  of  a 


162  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

family  twice  the  size  to  which  they  were  en- 
titled rushing  out  and  pouncing  upon  other 
fresh  arrivals,  who  were  quickly  hustled  and 
jerked  up  among  the  others,  until  not  infre- 
quently ten  or  a  dozen  of  these  tiny  balls 
filled  the  nest  to  overflowing.  .  .  .  Most  jeal- 
ously were  these  foundling  asylums  watched 
over,  and  many  were  the  fierce  encounters  in 
mid-air  when  some  marauding  band  dared  to 
interfere.  ...  A  single  gull,  aided  it  might 
be  by  some  accepted  neighbor,  fed,  apparently 
without  distinction,  all  these  youngsters."  142 

Some  of  our  common  land-birds  habitually 
live  in  colonies,  such  as  grackles,  chimney 
swifts,  and  swallows,  while  others  adopt  a 
common  sleeping-place,  generally  in  a  bit  of 
woods,  where  they  collect  by  thousands  and 
pass  the  night  together.  This  is  a  well-known 
habit  of  our  common  crow,  and  it  has  lately 
been  discovered  that  the  robin  has  the  same 
custom. 

To  those  of  us  who  live  in  a  country  of 
trees  these  seem  the  proper  place  for  nests, 
and  most  of  our  smaller  and  weaker  birds  do 
select  a  tree  or  a  bush  in  which  to  set  up 
their  home.  So  numerous  are  they  and  so 


HIS  HOME  163 

well  known  by  every  one  that  it  is  un- 
necessary to  describe  them,  from  the  bulky 
mud-lined  nest  of  the  robin  to  the  fairylike 
plant-down  structure  big  enough  only  to 
cradle  a  pair  of  hummingbird  babies. 

Probably  the  largest  of  tree  nests  is  made 
by  the  osprey,  or  fish  hawk,  one  nest  often 
filling  the  whole  top  of  a  tree,  and  containing 
sometimes  more  than  a  cartload  of  materials 
of  the  most  incongruous  character,  from  good- 
sized  sticks  of  wood  to  a  boy's  toy  boat  with 
all  sails  set. 

Perhaps  the  safest,  if  not  the  most  comfort- 
able, of  our  bird  homes  are  the  wooden  castles 
of  the  tree  trunks  made  by  woodpeckers,  but 
beloved  and  constantly  appropriated  by  many 
other  birds.  I  have  mentioned  the  astuteness 
of  the  Western  burrowing  owl,  who  avails 
himself  of  the  labors  of  the  prairie-dog.  In 
like  manner  the  screech  owl  and  his  smaller 
relatives  find  comfortable  quarters  in  the 
abandoned  castles  of  the  different  woodpeck- 
ers, for  these  workers  in  wood,  it  is  said,  rarely 
occupy  a  nest  the  second  season.  The  elf  owl 
of  the  West  finds  satisfactory  lodgings  in  the 
stems  of  the  giant  cactus,  which  grows  thirty 


164  THE  BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

or  forty  feet  high,  and  is  generally  well  sup- 
plied with  deserted  woodpecker  homes.143 

The  most  singular  of  homes  in  a  tree  trunk 
is  made  by  an  African  bird,  the  hornbill.  A 
wooden  castle  alone  is  enough  to  ensure  safety 
to  our  birds ;  but  in  that  land  of  snakes  and 
long-armed  monkeys  something  more  is  needed. 
Accordingly,  when  the  hornbill  mother  is  ready 
to  sit,  she  retires  to  her  domicile,  and  her  mate 
brings  mud  with  which  he  walls  up  the  en- 
trance, leaving  an  opening  only  large  enough 
through  which  to  pass  her  rations.  This  done, 
the  outside  partner  devotes  himself  to  the 
work  of  furnishing  supplies,  and  probably, 
like  some  of  the  human  species  with  nothing 
to  do  but  eat,  she  gives  her  mind  to  it,  and 
disposes  of  a  large  amount.  At  any  rate  it  is 
said  that  she  comes  out  of  her  prison  very 
plump,  while  her  hard-worked  mate  is  worn  to 
skin  and  bones. 

This  bird  is  famous  for  another  eccentricity, 
which  has  puzzled  the  wise  men.  He  has  the 
strange  habit  of  throwing  up  the  lining  of  his 
gizzard  when  it  is  full  of  the  fruit  he  has 
gathered.  Whether  this  is  a  convenient  mar- 
ket basket  in  which  to  bring  home  supplies  to 


HIS  HOME  165 

his  imprisoned  household  is  not  known,  but 
the  fact  is  well  authenticated.144 

Some  birds  are  as  fond  of  decorating  their 
homes  as  we  are  ourselves,  though,  since  they 
are  confined  to  materials  they  can  find,  the  re- 
sults often  seem  to  us  grotesque.  For  example, 
a  golden  eagle  is  reported  by  Mr.  Taylor  to 
have  shown  a  fondness  for  a  "  soap-root "  in 
his  nest.  At  least  for  two  successive  years  he 
used  this  remarkable  decoration.145  And  the 
bald  eagle,  according  to  Dr.  Ralph,  uses  some- 
times a  green  pine  branch  or  a  ball  of  grass  or 
some  such  thing.146  More  to  our  taste  is  the 
nest  of  a  shag  covered  all  over  with  a  plant 
bearing  small  blue  flowers.147 

The  nest  of  a  sea-bird,  the  red-faced  cormo- 
rant, is  composed  of  sea-mosses,  with  a  few 
quill  feathers  of  the  larger  gulls  stuck  in  the 
sides,  says  Mr.  Palmer  in  his  Report  on  the 
Pribilof  Islands  ;148  and  a  cormorant  of  the  Pa- 
cific Coast  ornaments  the  outside  of  the  nest 
with  bright-colored  seaweed,  which  is  brought 
up  from  the  bottom,  sometimes  where  the  water 
is  fifty  feet  deep.  It  is  said  that  a  neighbor 
who  cannot,  or  at  any  rate  does  not,  collect  for 
himself  (or  herself)  this  dazzling  material  still 


166  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

admires  it ;  and  the  cormorant  is  obliged  to 
watch  closely  to  prevent  his  cherished  decora- 
tion from  being  stolen  by  the  gull.149 

Land-birds  show  fondness  for  decoration 
also.  A  robin  in  Pennsylvania  made  the  whole 
nest  of  flowers  and  white  stems  of  everlasting, 
and  it  may  now  be  seen  in  the  Philadelphia 
Academy  of  Sciences.  Other  birds  have  been 
known  to  build  entirely  of  flowers.  Miss  Hay- 
ward,  an  invalid  who  studied  birds  from  her 
window,  saw  one  pair  build  a  nest  of  the  blos- 
soms of  the  sycamore  and  sprays  of  forget- 
me-not,  and  another  —  an  English  sparrow  — 
cover  its  nest  with  white  sweet  alyssum.150 

The  yellow-throated  vireo  makes  a  beauti- 
ful hanging  nest  ornamented  with  lichens  of 
several  colors  gummed  upon  the  outside.  It 
is  said  that  sitting  begins  when  the  body  of 
the  nest  is  finished,  and  the  male  occupies  the 
time  in  ornamenting  it  while  his  mate  is  thus 
occupied. 

Mr.  Hudson  tells  of  an  English  sparrow 
who  brought  to  his  sitting  mate  sprays  of 
laburnum  blossoms,  neatly  cut  off  at  the  base, 
from  a  tree  sixty  yards  away.  Some  sprays 
were  used  to  decorate  the  nest,  others  placed 


HIS  HOME  167 

on  a  window-ledge  to  be  tossed  playfully 
about.151 

The  nest  of  a  shrike  described  by  Mrs. 
Eckstorm  was  made  of  rough  materials,  but 
lined  with  carefully  selected  hen  feathers  from 
a  neighboring  poultry-yard.  From  the  mass 
of  brown  and  black  feathers  in  this  yard  the 
bird  had  selected  only  the  Plymouth  Rocks, 
and  around  the  edge  of  the  nest  had  fastened 
upright  a  row  of  feathers  that  curled  over 
inward  so  that  the  bird  was  sheltered  and  al- 
most hidden  by  them  as  she  sat.152 

A  California  bird,  Anna's  hummingbird, 
has  a  material  for  nest-building  so  lovely  that 
the  whole  nest  is  a  decoration.  This  is  the 
soft  feathery  blossoms  of  the  eucalyptus,  or 
blue  gum  tree.153 

There  are  eccentrics  among  birds  as  among 
people,  and  the  curious  nests  which  occasion- 
ally come  to  light  make  this  plain.  Nests  have 
been  found  in  old  cans,  broken  crockery, 
saucepans,  hats  left  hanging,  bags  and  bas- 
kets, and  it  is  well  known  that  the  English 
sparrow  will  put  a  nest  into  any  cranny  he 
can  find.  I  once  found  a  wren  sitting  on  her 
nest  inside  an  iron  hitching-post,  using  the 


168  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

hole  left  for  the  hitehing-strap  for  her  en- 
trance, while  the  nest  itself  was,  of  course,  at 
the  bottom,  two  feet  or  more  below.  How  she 
could  get  her  young  folk  out  was  a  problem 
which,  to  my  regret,  I  was  unable  to  stay  to 
see  solved. 

A  thrasher  in  Arizona  selects  a  terrible 
place  for  a  nest,  though  doubtless  it  is  safest 
from  enemies.  It  is  in  a  sort  of  cactus  that 
is  set  with  countless  spines  and  virtually  im- 
penetrable to  man  or  beast,  —  "  ten  millions 
of  cambric  needles  set  on  hundreds  of  loosely 
jointed  spindles  woven  so  closely  together  as 
apparently  to  defy  penetration,"  says  Mr. 
Palmer.  But  the  birds  go  in  and  out  with 
ease.  Spines  around  the  nest  are  pulled  off, 
but  this  is  not  always  sufficient,  for  dead 
young  birds  are  found  tangled  in  the  mass. 
Occasionally  a  nest  is  found  with  a  passage 
through  the  spines  built  of  sticks.154 

Mr.  Forbes  tells  of  a  certain  tern  who  puts 
her  egg  on  the  leaf  of  a  young  cocoanut 
palm  at  a  time  when  the  leaf  has  turned 
down  till  nearly  at  right  angles  to  the  stem. 
The  egg  is  on  a  narrow  place  between  two 
leaflets  on  the  summit  of  the  arch  of  the  leaf, 


HIS  HOME  169 

where  it  rests  apparently  securely,  not  being 
dislodged  by  the  swaying  of  the  leaf  in  the 
wind.  But  the  leaf  goes  on  drooping  more 
and  more  till  it  falls.  However,  before  this 
catastrophe  the  young  bird  is  usually,  if  not 
invariably,  hatched  and  safely  on  wing.155 

The  Canada  grouse  has  a  queer  way  of  pre- 
paring her  nursery.  She  scratches  out  a  little 
hollow  and  begins  to  lay  her  eggs,  before 
touching  any  nesting-material.  After  three  or 
four  eggs  are  laid,  every  time  she  goes  to  the 
place,  when  leaving  she  picks  up  straws,  grass, 
and  leaves,  or  whatever  is  handy,  and  throws 
it  backward  over  her  head  as  she  goes,  and 
by  the  time  the  set  of  eggs  is  complete  she 
has  a  pile  of  stuff  about  them.  She  then  begins 
to  sit  and  occupies  the  long  hours  in  reaching 
out  round  her,  gathering  in  the  material  and 
forming  it  into  a  nest,  so  when  the  young  are 
hatched  there  is  a  deep,  cosy  cradle  for  them.156 

The  most  elaborate  of  bird  nurseries  is 
made  by  a  resident  of  Africa,  the  umber-bird 
or  hammerhead,  a  bird  about  the  size  of  a  ra- 
ven. The  nest  is  sometimes  six  feet  in  diame- 
ter and  is  placed  in  a  tree,  not  far  from  the 
ground.  It  is  made  of  sticks  stuck  together 


170  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

with  clay,  is  hollow,  and  contains  three  rooms, 
with  holes  between  them  for  doors.  The  inner 
room  is  the  nursery,  and  is  furnished  with  a 
soft  bed.  The  middle  room  is  the  larder,  in 
which  the  male  stores  food,  — fish,  frogs,  liz- 
ards, etc.  The  outer  room  is  for  the  master 
of  the  house,  where  he  sits  when  not  hunting, 
and  keeps  guard.157  The  natives  are  supersti- 
tious about  this  bird,  since  he  is  a  night-lover 
and  flits  about  in  the  dark,  besides  sometimes 
indulging  himself  in  a  mysterious  dance. 

Another  enormous  but  very  different  nest 
is  made  by  the  talegalla,  or  mound-builder  of 
Australia.  The  nest  is  a  great  mound  or  heap 
of  stuff  three  or  four  feet  high,  with  the 
eggs  buried  in  it,  and  the  sun  or  the  heat  of 
decomposition  does  the  work  of  incubation. 
But  the  eggs  are  not  deserted;  the  parents 
often  uncover  them  and  see  that  they  are  all 
right.  When  the  young  are  hatched,  they  re- 
main in  their  warm  nest  from  twelve  to  twenty- 
four  hours  still  under  cover,  and  when  they 
come  out  they  run  about  at  once.  A  pair  of 
these  birds  in  the  London  Zoological  Gardens 
were  furnished  with  materials  for  a  nest, — 
leaves,  earth,  and  grass, — and  they  built  there. 


HIS  HOME  171 

The  male  began  at  the  outside,  grasping  the 
materials  in  his  large  feet  and  throwing  them 
behind  him  towards  a  central  spot,  gradually 
contracting  the  circle  as  he  went  on.  A  con- 
ical heap  was  thus  formed  three  or  four  feet 
high,  when  both  birds  arranged  it  to  their 
liking.158 

In  contrast  with  these  elaborate  structures 
a  few  birds  make  no  nest  whatever.  Some  sea- 
birds  carry  the  single  egg  between  the  thighs 
until  it  hatches ;  our  own  whip-poor-will  and 
night  hawk  disdain  a  nest,  and  indeed  the 
latter  of  late  years  contents  herself  with  the 
gravel  roofs  of  city  houses. 


IX 

HIS  AMUSEMENTS 


The  life  of  the  birds  is  beautiful  and  free  all  the  year. 
It  is  the  joyful  life  of  the  birds  that  has  made  their 
songs  so  grateful  to  us.  —  W.  WARDE  FOWLER,  Sum- 
mer Studies  of  Birds  and  Books. 

The  joy  in  life  of  almost  all  animals  and  birds  in  free- 
dom is  very  great.  You  may  see  it  in  every  motion.  .  .  . 
Watch  the  birds  in  spring ;  the  pairs  dance  from  bough 
to  bough  and  know  not  how  to  express  their  wild  happi- 
ness. —  KICHARD  JEFFERIES,  Wild  Life  in  a  Southern 
County. 


IX 

HIS  AMUSEMENTS 

No  one  who  has  eyes  to  see  can  doubt  that 
young  creatures  delight  in  play.  Not  only  is 
the  truth  borne  in  upon  us  every  day  and  hour 
by  the  kittens  and  puppies  who  share  our 
homes,  but  we  see  it  constantly  in  our  own 
nurseries,  and  no  less  in  the  young  tenants  of 
the  barnyard.  The  fact  is  the  same  in  the 
world  of  feathers,  though,  for  lack  of  oppor- 
tunity to  observe,  it  is  not  so  well  known. 
Proof  in  plenty  is  not  lacking,  however. 

It  is,  of  course,  with  the  feathered  folk  at 
liberty  in  a  house  that  I  have  seen  the  most 
playfulness,  for  happily  their  wings  cannot 
bear  them  out  of  sight  so  readily  as  can  those 
of  their  wild  brothers.  I  have  seen  birds 
amuse  themselves  by  the  hour  with  a  bit  of 
string,  a  marble,  a  moving  toy,  a  scrap  of 
paper,  the  pins  in  a  cushion,  and  many  other 
things.  But  much  more  is  to  be  seen  by  the 
close  observer  among  the  wild  and  free. 

"Young  birds,"  says  W.  Warde  Fowler, 


176  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

"  play  like  kittens  or  like  fox-cubs.  The  stu- 
dent of  birds  who  sighs  when  the  breeding- 
season  is  over  and  the  familiar  voices  are  mute, 
is  consoled  by  the  sight  of  all  these  bright 
young  families,  happy  in  youth,  liberty,  and 
abundance." 159 

"  We  see,"  says  Hudson,  "  that  the  inferior 
animals,  when  the  conditions  are  favorable, 
are  subject  to  periodical  fits  of  gladness,  af- 
fecting them  powerfully,  and  standing  out  in 
vivid  contrast  to  their  ordinary  temper.  And 
we  know  what  this  feeling  is,"  he  goes  on, — 
"  the  intense  elation  which  even  civilized  man 
occasionally  experiences,  more  especially  when 
young.  There  are  moments  when  he  is  mad 
with  joy,  when  he  cannot  keep  still.  Birds," 
he  continues,  "  are  more  subject  to  this  joyous 
instinct  than  mammals  and  there  are  times  when 
some  species  are  overflowing  with  it.  As  they 
are  so  much  freer  than  mammals,  more  buoy- 
ant and  graceful  in  action,  and  have  voices  so 
much  finer,  their  gladness  shows  itself  in  a 
greater  variety  of  ways,  with  more  regular  and 
beautiful  motions  and  with  melody."  16° 

"My  experience,"  the  same  writer  says  in 
another  place,  "is  that  mammals  and  birds 


HIS  AMUSEMENTS  177 

with  few  exceptions  —  probably  there  are 
really  no  exceptions  —  possess  the  habit  of  in- 
dulging frequently  in  more  or  less  set  perform- 


ances." 161 


It  has  been  assumed  that  all  these  exhibi- 
tions of  joy  or  pleasure  belong  strictly  to  the 
wooing  season,  and  are  intended  solely  to  aid 
in  the  winning  of  mates,  but  later  develop- 
ments and  a  better  knowledge  of  their  lives 
have  caused  a  change  of  opinion,  and  it  has 
become  evident  that  it  is  pure  joy  and  natural 
spirits  that  animate  the  birds  in  their  strange 
and  of  ten,  to  our  view,  grotesque  performances. 

The  tendency  to  play  in  the  youth  of  men 
and  annuals  has  aroused  serious  interest  in 
students  of  life.  Several  theories  have  been 
suggested  to  account  for  it.  An  interesting 
one  comes  from  a  German  writer,  who,  after 
declaring  play  to  be  merely  practice  to  develop 
the  powers  of  body  and  mind,  goes  so  far  as 
to  assert  that  animals  have  a  period  of  youth 
for  the  especial  business  of  play,  that  is,  for 
the  purpose  of  training  themselves,  so  that 
when  they  come  to  cope  with  the  serious  af- 
fairs of  life  their  powers  shall  be  under  their 
own  control.  In  other  words  the  young  ani- 


178  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

mal — human,  bird,  or  beast  —  does  not  play 
because  he  is  young,  but  he  has  a  period  of 
youth  because  he  must  play.162 

This  gives  to  play  a  biological  significance 
not  heretofore  accorded  to  it,  which  should  be 
a  comfort  to  the  mothers  of  boys,  and  which 
warrants  our  giving  some  attention  to  it  in 
the  development  of  the  bird. 

Most  popular  with  birds,  as  with  boys,  are 
movement  plays,  and  with  feathered  youth,  as 
with  human,  they  are  usually  accompanied 
with  much  noise.  The  most  simple  and  quiet 
game  is  swinging,  a  favorite  amusement  with 
birds.  Not  alone  the  caged,  whose  opportuni- 
ties are  limited,  but  free  birds  have  often  been 
seen  enjoying  it.  All  of  the  titmouse  family, 
both  in  our  own  country  and  in  Europe,  seem 
particularly  fond  of  it.  With  the  black-capped 
titmouse,  our  familiar  chickadee,  it  is  his  best- 
known  and  almost  constant  sport,  and  of  his 
European  cousin  Jefferies  says,  "  A  dozen  or 
more  titmice  are  often  seen  .  .  .  hanging 
head  down  to  a  drooping  branch  for  an  hour 
at  a  time,  swinging  in  the  wind  and  chirping 
and  calling  in  the  merriest  tones." 

A  bird  I  once  had  in  freedom  in  the  house 


HIS  AMUSEMENTS  179 

chose  for  his  swing  the  loose  ends  of  a  card- 
board map  which  hung  on  the  wall  and  was 
so  warped  that  a  corner  stood  out.  The  bird 
would  alight  on  this  projecting  corner  with  a 
violence  that  made  it  swing  back  and  forth 
several  times.  When  it  became  quiet  he  would 
fly  around  the  room  and  come  down  on  it 
again  with  the  same  effect,  and  continue  the 
amusement  for  a  long  time. 

Another  inmate  of  my  bird-room,  a  Brazilian 
cardinal,  a  beautiful  high-spirited  fellow  in 
soft  gray  with  a  brilliant  scarlet  crest,  passed 
many  of  the  tedious  hours  in  flying  up  to  the 
ceiling,  turning  a  somersault,  and  returning 
to  his  perch,  doing  the  whole  so  quickly  that 
it  was  almost  impossible  for  the  eye  to  follow 
him. 

Mr.  Bolles  assures  us  that  his  pet  owls  were 
very  playful,  and  it  is  well  known  to  observing 
keepers  of  parrots  and  cockatoos  that  play- 
things are  necessary  to  their  happiness.  If 
these  are  not  supplied  by  an  intelligent  mis- 
tress, the  bird  will  find  something  for  him- 
self, —  a  child's  ball,  a  bunch  of  keys,  even  one 
of  his  own  stray  feathers.  Many  an  exasperated 
housemistress  can  testify  to  the  ecstasy  of  one 


180  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

of  these  birds  over  a  workbasket  left  un- 
guarded, and  the  wreck  which  follows  their 
play. 

"  Owls  are  in  reality  gay-hearted  creatures, 
as  full  of  fun  and  frolic  as  monkeys,"  affirms 
the  "Son  of  the  Marshes,"  who  had  tamed 
and  studied  numbers  of  these  birds  for  years, 
adding,  "  better  behaved,  however,  as  becomes 
birds  of  their  deportment."  163 

"My  four  meadowlarks,"  says  Mr.  Scott, 
"had  endless  sports  and  romps  together.  A 
ball  of  crumpled  paper  was  a  plaything  that 
gave  endless  delight." 164 

Mrs.  Bignell's  robin,  mentioned  in  a  pre- 
ceding chapter,  was  very  fond  of  play,  and 
there  were  several  games  that  she  used  to 
play  with  him,  into  which  he  entered  with 
spirit. 

Mr.  Nelson  tells  of  ravens  playing  with  sea- 
urchins  on  the  shore,  letting  them  drop  from 
high  up  in  the  air  and  catching  them  before 
they  reached  the  ground,  apparently,  he  adds, 
in  sport.165  Turner,  also,  speaks  of  the  same 
bird  going  through  astonishing  evolutions, 
turning  sidewise  somersaults,  flying  with  one 
wing  closed  and  the  other  straight  up  in  the 


HIS  AMUSEMENTS  181 

air.166  The  same  remarkable  performance  is 
noted  by  Selous  in  "  Bird  Watching." 

The  most  interesting  instance  of  solitary 
amusement  is  the  dance,  or,  more  correctly, 
the  waltz,  of  the  ostrich,  which  has  been  ob- 
served and  described  both  in  captivity  and  in 
freedom.  "  Ostriches,"  says  Mrs.  Martin,  who 
lived  among  them  for  years,  "  have  a  dervish- 
like  habit  of  waltzing  when  in  good  spirits. 
They  go  sailing  along  so  prettily  in  the  bright 
sunshine,  their  beautiful  wings,  spread  and 
erect,  giving  them  at  a  little  distance  the  ap- 
pearance of  white  balloons,  but  they  have  a 
sad  tendency  to  get  dizzy  and  fall,  and  often 
break  their  frail  legs."  Young  ostriches  three 
weeks  old  often  waltz  in  absurd  imitation  of 
their  elders,  and  generally  end  in  a  comical 
sprawl  on  the  back.167 

To  this  account  Professor  Morgan  adds  his 
testimony.  He  says:  '"I  once  saw,  on  an 
ostrich  farm  in  South  Africa,  six  or  eight  of 
these  camel-birds,  as  the  ancients  called  them, 
waltzing  together  in  full  swing.  They  began 
by  treading  the  ground  with  their  feet  and 
moving  along  sideways ;  then  they  began  to 
revolve,  at  first  slowly,  gently  beating  time 


182  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

with  their  wings,  but  soon  quicker  and  quicker, 
until  at  length  they  were  twirling  round  at  a 
bewildering  rate,  threading  their  way  in  and 
out  among  each  other,  sweeping  round  and 
round  with  breathless  rapidity." 168 

Less  dignified  than  the  dance  of  the  ostrich 
is  that  of  the  crane,  which  has  been  described 
by  many  observers.  This  tall  fellow  violently 
ruffles  his  feathers,  flings  his  long  legs  about, 
balances  on  the  tip  of  his  toes,  gesticulates, 
twists  his  long  neck,  bending  almost  to  the 
ground,  spreads  his  wings,  runs  swiftly  back 
and  forth,  and  leaps  over  the  head  of  another. 
Sometimes  when  his  emotions  fail  to  find  ex- 
pression in  any  of  these  grotesque  antics,  he 
he  will  fling  himself  upon  the  ground  and 
kick  and  wriggle  his  legs  in  the  air. 

The  performance  of  the  little  brown  crane 
of  Alaska  is  thus  described  by  Mr.  Nelson  in 
his  report  on  that  Territory.  One  of  these 
birds  alighted  near  him  and  in  a  short  time 
a  second  joined  the  first.  Both  then  began 
loud  rolling  cries,  and  one  opened  the  ball  by 
turning  his  back  upon  his  partner,  making  a 
low  bow,  his  head  nearly  touching  the  ground, 
and  ended  by  a  quick  leap  into  the  air.  He 


HIS  AMUSEMENTS  183 

then  wheeled  around,  facing  number  two, 
whom  he  greeted  with  a  still  deeper  bow,  his 
wings  hanging  loosely  at  his  side.  The  second 
bird  replied  with  a  bow  and  a  leap,  and  then 
each  tried  to  outdo  the  other  in  spasmodic 
starts  and  hops,  alternated  with  comically 
grave,  ceremonious  bows  and  stilted  hops  and 
skips  like  the  steps  in  a  burlesque  minuet.169 

Retaining  their  good  spirits  in  captivity  as 
well  as  in  freedom,  cranes  indulge  in  this 
amusement,  as  reported  by  the  superintendent 
of  the  Zoological  Gardens  in  London.  Says 
he :  "  Cranes  are  cheerful  and  lively,  and  their 
sportive  activity  renders  them  great  favorites 
in  captivity.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  graceful 
movements  of  a  group  of  these  delightful  birds 
as  they  dance  and  skip  about,  raising  and  low- 
ering their  graceful  heads  and  necks,  and, 
with  outstretched  wings,  waltzing  round  each 
other  with  evident  enjoyment.  ...  A  feather, 
a  piece  of  paper,  or  a  dead  leaf  is  sometimes 
thrown  up  by  them,  and  as  it  is  carried  about 
by  the  wind  they  jump  after  it  and  repeat  the 
performance  in  great  glee."  17° 

The  most  grotesque  dancer  is,  perhaps,  a 
bird  of  New  Caledonia  that  has  been  studied 


184  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

in  the  London  Zoological  Gardens.  He  is  the 
kagu,  about  the  size  of  a  common  hen,  with 
long  legs  added.  When  his  feelings  require 
expression,  he  abandons  his  ordinary  placid 
behavior  and  executes  a  variety  of  violent 
gesticulations  of  a  most  extraordinary  kind, 
dancing  round  holding  in  the  bill  the  tip  of 
his  tail  or  one  of  his  wings.171 

When  these  pranks  fail  to  satisfy  his  exu- 
berant spirits,  it  is  reported  that  he  abandons 
himself  to  buffoonery,  thrusting  his  bill  into 
the  ground,  beating  his  wings,  and  kicking 
violently,  ending  usually  in  falling  to  the 
ground  in  a  sort  of  fit. 

Another  foreigner,  a  cassowary,  nearly  re- 
lated to  the  ostrich,  is  a  "  kicker,"  though  not 
in  the  newspaper  sense.  Dr.  Bennett,  a  well- 
known  naturalist,  reared  a  pair  of  this  species 
and  kept  them  as  pets  among  his  poultry. 
They  were  very  tame  and  interesting  birds, 
about  three  feet  high.  Dr.  Bennett  thus  de- 
scribes their  antics :  "  One  morning  I  observed 
one  rolling  in  the  yard  with  feet  uppermost. 
Suddenly  it  started  up,  leaping  and  racing 
around  the  in  closure,  chirping  madly  and 
kicking  trees  and  posts,  often  coming  against 


HIS   AMUSEMENTS  185 

them  with  much  violence,  and  at  the  same  time 
kicking  so  high  with  both  legs  as  to  tumble 
on  its  back,  and  I  feared  it  was  seriously 
hurt.  But  it  rose  again  and  resumed  the  per- 
formance not  injured  in  the  least.  This  lasted 
about  half  an  hour,  during  which  every  fowl 
that  did  not  get  out  of  the  way  was  kicked 
aside  without  ceremony.  When  the  frolicsome 
fit  ended,  the  bird  suddenly  stopped  and  re- 
sumed its  usual  quiet  walk  about  the  yard  as 
if  nothing  had  happened." 

The  plodding  brown  creeper,  most  demure 
of  birds,  whose  whole  mind  seems  bent  on 
searching  out  the  eggs  of  insects  in  the  crev- 
ices, has  been  seen  engaged  in  the  most 
giddy  waltz,  whirling  around  like  a  top  for  a 
long  time.  Even  the  charming  purple  finch 
expands  his  plumage  and  executes  a  dainty 
and  exquisitely  graceful  dance.  Our  own  blue 
jay  belongs  also  to  the  dancers,  although  his 
movement  is  peculiar,  being  mostly  of  the 
body,  accompanied  by  a  soft,  rapidly  uttered 
note,  while  his  feet  are  still. 

The  antics  of  the  English  cousin  of  our 
jay  resemble,  says  Hudson,  Wallace's  descrip- 
tion of  the  amusements  of  the  bird  of  para- 


186  THE   BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

dise.  "  The  jays  gather  in  a  tree  in  numbers, 
in  great  excitement/'  he  says,  "perpetually 
moving,  jumping  and  flitting  from  branch  to 
branch,  springing  into  the  air  to  wheel  around 
or  pass  over  the  tree,  all  apparently  intent  on 
showing  off  their  various  colors." 172 

One  would  hardly  look  for  playfulness 
among  the  large  birds,  to  whom  a  dignified 
deportment  seems  more  suitable,  yet  one  of 
the  largest  of  the  bird  family,  the  condor, 

—  who  sails  round  in  the  air  thousands  of 
feet  above  the  highest  peaks  of  the  Andes, 

—  indulges  in  a  little  dance,  and,  with  head 
sunk  on  breast  and  wings  wide  spread,  cir- 
cles round  his  mate  to  an  accompaniment  of 
strange  sounds.173 

Our  familiar  marsh  hawk  also  shows  a  par- 
ticularly playful  disposition  by  executing  cloud 
dances,  coming  down  from  a  great  height  in 
a  sort  of  dizzy  whirl,  turning  over  and  over 
half  a  dozen  times  in  succession ;  again,  turn- 
ing head  down,  fixing  his  wings  in  a  peculiar 
position,  and  descending  twenty  or  thirty 
yards  with  a  swift  screw-like  motion.174 

"There  is  another  sort  of  human  play,  into 
which  higher  aesthetic  feelings  enter,"  says 


HIS  AMUSEMENTS  187 

Mr.  William  James.  "  I  refer  to  the  love  of 
festivities,  etc.,  which  seems  to  be  universal 
in  our  species.  The  lowest  savages  have  their 
dances.  .  .  .  The  various  religions  have  their 
solemn  rites  and  exercises,  and  civic  and  mil- 
itary powers  have  processions,  etc.,  of  divers 
sorts.  An  element  common  to  all  these  cer- 
emonial games,  as  they  are  called,  is  the  ex- 
citement of  concerted  action,  as  one  of  an 
organized  crowd.  The  same  acts,  performed 
with  a  crowd,  seem  to  mean  vastly  more  than 
when  performed  alone.  .  .  .  There  is  a  dis- 
tinct stimulation  at  feeling  our  share  in  the 
collective  life." 175 

This  seems  to  be  true  in  the  bird  world 
also.  Hudson  tells  us  of  the  spur-winged  lap- 
wing of  South  America,  a  bird  about  the  size 
of  our  common  crow,  who  has  a  remarkable 
dance,  called  by  the  natives  a  square  dance  or 
quadrille.  The  birds  go  about  at  all  seasons 
of  the  year  in  pairs,  united  "  for  better,  for 
worse,"  it  is  supposed,  and  the  performance 
requires  three  individuals.  It  begins  by  one 
of  a  pair  leaving  his  mate  and  joining  an- 
other pair,  who  advance  to  meet  him  with  joy- 
ous cries,  then  place  themselves  side  by  side 


188  THE   BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

behind  the  visitor.  The  leader  starts  off  in  a 
rapid  march,  shouting  out  single  notes  at  in- 
tervals, while  the  pair  behind  follow  closely 
in  his  footsteps,  uttering  a  continuous  cry 
like  a  drum  roll.  When  the  march  ends,  the 
leader  lifts  his  wings  and  stands  motionless, 
and  the  two  behind,  with  puffed-out  plumes, 
lean  forward  and  touch  the  tips  of  their  bills 
to  the  ground.  They  stand  thus  a  short  time 
and  then  the  performance  is  over,  and  the 
leader  returns  to  his  mate.176 

The  same  writer  describes  the  droll  play  of 
certain  rails  of  that  country,  birds  about  the 
size  of  the  domestic  hen,  who  live  in  swampy 
places  among  the  rushes.  They  seem  to  have 
a  regular  meeting-place  on  a  small  bit  of 
level  ground  hemmed  in  by  the  rushes.  The 
play  begins  by  one  bird  uttering  a  loud  cry, 
upon  which  all  the  birds  around  hurry  to  the 
meeting-place  and  begin  to  shout  and  scream 
as  if  in  agony,  rushing  from  side  to  side,  ap- 
parently gone  quite  mad,  wings  waving,  beaks 
wide  open  and  held  straight  up.  This  perfor- 
mance continues  for  three  or  four  minutes, 
when  suddenly  all  stops,  and  every  one  re- 
turns to  his  own  business.177 


HIS  AMUSEMENTS  189 

Mr.  W.  K.  Fisher,  in  his  paper  on  the 
Laysan  albatrosses,  mentioned  in  a  preceding 
chapter,  gives  an  interesting  account  of  the 
amusements  of  these  birds.  While  many  of 
the  adults  were  off  fishing,  the  rest  enter- 
tained themselves  with  their  endless  dance 
and  song,  which  they  evidently  carry  on  for 
their  own  pleasure.  This  once  may  have  been 
courtship,  but  now  it  is  pure  amusement. 

"  From  where  we  are  seated  we  can  easily 
count  twenty-five  couples  hard  at  play.  At 
first  two  birds  approach  each  other,  bowing 
profoundly  and  stepping  heavily.  They  swag- 
ger about  each  other,  nodding  and  curtsying 
solemnly,  then  suddenly  begin  to  fence  a  lit- 
tle, crossing  bills  and  whetting  them  together, 
sometimes  with  a  whistling  sound,  meanwhile 
pecking  and  dropping  stiff  little  bows.  All  at 
once  one  lifts  its  closed  wing  and  nibbles  at 
the  feathers  beneath,  or  rarely,  if  in  a  hurry, 
quickly  turns  its  head.  The  partner,  during 
this  short  performance,  assumes  a  statuesque 
pose,  and  either  looks  mechanically  from  side 
to  side,  or  snaps  its  bill  loudly  a  few  times. 
Then  the  first  bird  bows  once  and,  pointing 
its  head  and  beak  straight  upward,  rises  on 


190  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

its  toes,  puffs  out  its  breast,  and  utters  a  pro- 
longed, nasal  Ah-h-h-h  with  a  rapidly  rising 
inflection,  and  with  a  distinctly  '  anserine ' 
and  '  bovine '  quality  quite  difficult  to  describe. 
While  this  '  song '  is  being  uttered  the  com- 
panion loudly  and  rapidly  snaps  its  bill.  .  .  . 
When  they  have  finished  they  begin  bowing 
to  each  other  again.  ...  In  the  most  suc- 
cessful dances  the  movements  are  executed  in 
perfect  unison,  which  enhances  the  extraor- 
dinary effect." 

When,  on  several  occasions,  Mr.  Fisher 
walked  in  among  them  and  began  to  bow  low, 
imitating  them,  they  would  stop  and  gaze  at 
him  in  astonishment,  but,  recovering  them- 
selves almost  at  once,  would  gravely  return  his 
bows  and  walk  around  him  in  a  puzzled  sort 
of  way,  as  if  wondering  what  sort  of  a  bird 
he  might  be.  "  Far  into  the  night,"  says  the 
chronicler,  "these  pleasure-loving  creatures 
seem  to  dance  for  the  joy  of  dancing." 178 

A  more  solemn  and  stately  performance  is 
what  has  been  called  the  "  dress  parade  "  of 
the  flamingoes  on  our  coast.  This  has  been 
described  by  Captain  Ingraham.  He  was 
watching  a  flock  of  three  hundred  or  more, 


HIS  AMUSEMENTS  191 

standing  about  four  hundred  yards  from  the 
shore.  The  show  was  started  by  a  few  of  the 
largest  birds  beginning  to  march  back  and 
forth  in  the  rear  of  the  flock.  In  a  few 
moments  nearly  every  male  joined  the  march- 
ing party,  and  as  though  at  a  signal  every 
bird  began  to  march,  going  beyond  the  line 
of  the  flock,  then  halted  and  shouted,  making 
as  much  noise  as  possible.  After  a  few 
moments  of  this  pastime,  they  faced  about 
and  marched  back  to  the  other  end  of  the 
line,  halted,  and  repeated  the  shouts.  This 
performance  they  kept  up  nearly  an  hour, 
and  they  marched  almost  as  perfectly  as  a 
body  of  drilled  soldiers.179 

Mr.  Beebe  of  the  New  York  Zoological 
Park  bears  testimony  to  the  playfulness  of  the 
caracara  hawks  in  captivity.  He  says  that 
they  are  odd  to  grotesqueness,  being  endowed 
with  a  spirit  of  rollicking  fun  which  is  re- 
markable. He  has  watched  the  most  unbird- 
like  frolics  between  them,  such  as  rolling  over 
and  over  on  the  ground  and  turning  somer- 
saults until  every  feather  seemed  to  be  on  end. 
In  his  studies  in  Mexico  he  found  their  wild 
brethren  no  less  amusing,  and  no  less  funny 


192          THE     BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

in  their  antics  over  the  bones  he  threw  out 
for  them.180 

We  must  all  remember  what  Mr.  Wallace 
calls  the  "dancing-parties"  of  the  birds  of 
paradise  in  the  Malay  Archipelago,  already 
alluded  to,  in  which  the  full-plumaged  birds 
collect  in  a  tree  in  parties  of  a  dozen  or  so. 
The  tree  selected  is  of  wide-spreading  branches 
but  few  leaves,  thus  leaving  space  for  these 
gorgeous  birds  to  get  about  without  danger 
to  their  fine  dress.  They  fly  from  branch 
to  branch  in  great  excitement,  raising  the 
wings  over  the  back,  keeping  their  exquisite 
plumes  in  constant  vibration,  stretching  their 
necks  and  bowing  their  heads  under  all  this 
golden  glory.181 

It  takes  the  intelligence  of  the  crow  family 
to  carry  playfulness  so  far  as  a  joke.  Mrs. 
Martin,  in  her  "  Life  on  an  Ostrich  Farm," 
tells  of  some  crows  in  Africa  who  were  fond  of 
perpetrating  jokes  on  her  dog,  a  collie.  The 
birds  would  begin  it  by  flying  down  and  chal- 
lenging him  to  catch  them.  The  dog,  always 
ready,  would  dash  noisily  after  them,  while 
they,  enjoying  the  fun,  flew  tantalizingly 
along  close  in  front  of  his  nose,  and  only 


HIS  AMUSEMENTS  193 

just  out  of  his  reach.  Sometimes  they  would 
settle  on  the  ground,  a  long  way  off,  and,  ap- 
parently oblivious  of  him,  become  deeply  ab- 
sorbed in  searching  for  something.  The  dog, 
deluded  by  the  well-acted  play,  would  make 
a  wild  charge.  But  the  artless-looking  crows 
would  allow  him  to  come  within  an  inch  of 
catching  them,  then,  rising  slowly  into  the 
air,  would  hover  over  his  head,  croaking  con- 
temptuously just  out  of  his  reach.  When  at 
last  he  was  tired  with  running  and  flung  him- 
self panting  on  the  ground,  they  would  walk 
derisively  all  round  him,  come  up  defiantly 
close  to  his  gasping  mouth,  and  all  but  perch 
on  him.182 

The  same  writer  had  a  tame  crow  who  was 
so  full  of  fun  that  he  could  not  be  allowed  in 
the  house.  One  of  his  favorite  pranks  was  a 
joke  on  a  small  animal  of  that  country  (South 
Africa)  called  a  meerkat,  a  very  intelligent 
and  interesting  pet  not  larger  than  a  rat. 
The  crow  would  come  up  quietly,  seize  the 
little  fellow  by  the  tail,  carry  him  up  into  the 
air  a  few  feet  and  then  drop  him.  Then  wait- 
ing a  few  minutes,  till  his  victim  had  recov- 
ered his  composure  and  was  off  his  guard,  he 


194  THE  BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

would  repeat  the  offense.  The  little  beast 
chattered  and  scolded,  showing  all  his  teeth, 
but  was  powerless  against  the  crow.183 

Mr.  Turner  in  his  report  on  Alaska,  already 
quoted,  relates  this  incident :  There  were  two 
roosters  kept  in  a  yard  together  among  a 
large  company  of  hens.  The  elder  —  after 
the  amiable  manner  of  his  race  —  beat  the 
younger  till  he  was  half  dead  and  one  eye 
destroyed.  The  ravens  in  the  neighborhood 
watched  the  fights  with  interest,  and  after  the 
younger  fowl  was  properly  subdued,  often 
played  this  joke  on  him.  When  they  caught 
him  walking  about  alone,  away  from  the 
others,  a  raven  would  sail  about  over  his 
head  and  suddenly  drop  down  beside  him 
with  a  loud  cry.  The  unfortunate  victim,  un- 
nerved, no  doubt,  by  his  repeated  sufferings, 
would  drop  flat  on  the  ground  in  terror, 
which  seemed  to  give  great  pleasure  to  the 
birds.  It  was  plainly  a  joke  on  their  part,  for 
they  did  not  attempt  to  annoy  him  further.184 

A  young  friend,  an  observing  student  of 
birds,  and  a  truth-teller,  once  saw  a  party  of 
blue  jays,  who  are  among  the  most  intelligent 
of  their  family  (the  crow  family),  which,  says 


HIS  AMUSEMENTS  195 

Professor  Newton,  should  be  placed  at  the 
head  of  the  bird  tribe  as  the  most  intelligent 
of  our  fellow  creatures  in  feathers.  The  jays, 
fifteen  or  twenty  of  them,  were  watching  a 
party  of  other  birds  enjoying  a  feast  of  cher- 
ries. They  stood  quietly  in  a  neighboring  tree 
till  all  the  cherry-eaters  were  busy,  —  robins, 
catbirds,  thrushes,  and  others,  —  then  sud- 
denly they  rose  in  a  flock  with  loud  cries  and 
swooped  down  as  if  to  annihilate  the  party  on 
the  cherry  tree.  Of  course  the  victims  rose  in 
panic  and  scattered  in  all  directions,  when  the 
naughty  jays  settled  quietly  again  on  their 
tree.  The  cherry-gatherers,  finding  it  a  false 
alarm,  would  one  by  one  return  to  the  feast, 
and  when  they  were  all  busy  again,  the  jays 
would  repeat  the  joke.185 

On  one  occasion  in  the  South,  I  was  watch- 
ing a  party  of  buzzards  sailing  about  in  the 
air,  and  dropping  one  after  another  to  the 
ground  just  outside  the  fence.  I  was  wonder- 
ing what  drew  them  there,  when  a  mocking- 
bird flew  across  the  yard  and  perched  upon 
the  fence  close  to  them.  For  a  few  seconds 
he  stood  motionless,  looking  at  them  intently, 
then  suddenly,  with  a  loud  war-cry,  dropped 


196  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

down  among  them.  I  was  startled ;  I  thought 
the  great  creatures  would  annihilate  him.  But 
to  my  amazement,  the  buzzards  instantly  rose 
in  a  panic,  —  twenty  of  them.  The  mocking- 
bird knew  them  better  than  I,  and  undoubt- 
edly did  it  as  a  joke,  for  the  next  instant  he 
hopped  gayly  upon  the  fence  and  burst  into 
his  liveliest  song,  wriggling  his  lithe  body 
and  flirting  his  wings  and  tail  in  a  most  ex- 
pressive way. 

At  another  time  the  same  bird  became  in- 
terested in  a  brood  of  chickens  following  their 
mother  about  the  yard.  No  doubt  he  planned 
another  joke,  for  he  dropped  down  in  the 
same  way  among  them.  But  a  hen  is  a  dif- 
ferent bird  from  a  buzzard,  and,  contrary  to 
the  common  opinion  of  her,  has  a  good  deal 
of  sense,  and  the  performance  was  not  so  suc- 
cessful. She  was  wide  awake  in  the  defense 
of  her  chicks,  and  turned  sharply  upon  the 
intruder,  who  discreetly  returned  to  the  fence. 
No  triumphant  song,  no  expressive  posturing 
upon  the  fence,  followed  this  failure. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  things  I  ever 
saw  was  a  barn  swallow  playing  with  a  shep- 
herd dog,  and  I  watched  them  for  a  long 


HIS  AMUSEMENTS  197 

time,  as  related  elsewhere.  The  bird  would 
skim  over  the  earth  just  above  the  dog's 
head,  while  the  beast  ran  madly  after  as  if 
trying  to  catch  him,  though  at  the  same  time 
wagging  his  tail  and  evidently  not  at  all  in 
earnest.  At  one  end  of  a  certain  ledge  on 
which  the  dog  ran,  the  bird  would  fly  up 
and  in  a  moment  swoop  down  again,  and  fly 
back  over  the  same  run.  They  kept  this  up 
for  half  an  hour,  or  as  long  as  I  could  stay 
to  look  on.  I  was  interested  to  see  how  dif- 
ferently the  same  swallow  and  his  fellows 
(there  were  not  more  than  six  or  eight  of 
them  in  the  neighborhood)  treated  a  cat, 
whom  they  recognized,  of  course,  as  an  enemy. 
They  flew  at  her  with  cries,  one  after  another 
in  quick  succession,  sometimes  almost  touch- 
ing her,  and  so  disturbing  her  that  she  ran 
into  the  house  to  get  away  from  them. 


X 

HIS  MEANS  OF  DEFENSE  AND  ATTACK 


It  is  a  curious  fact  that  although  birds  as  a  class  are 
the  most  innocent,  the  most  beautiful  and  musical  of  liv- 
ing creatures,  they  are  more  preyed  upon  by  man  and 
beast  and  crawling  reptile  than  any  other  beings. — 
ELDRIDGE  EUGENE  FISH,  The  Blessed  Birds. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  those  who  know  the  least  about 
wild  life  seem  to  have  the  most  to  say.  If  the  jay  did 
one  quarter  of  the  mischief  he  is  credited  with,  he  would 
surely  have  been  exterminated  long  ago.  —  "A  SON  OF 
THE  MARSHES,"  In  the  Green  Leaf  and  the  Sere. 


X 

HIS  MEANS  OF  DEFENSE  AND  ATTACK 

BIRDS  have  almost  constant  use  for  defensive 
arts,  for  no  creatures  on  earth  have  so  many 
enemies,  and  are  so  constantly  persecuted,  and 
they  have  developed  some  methods  which  in- 
dicate intelligence  of  no  low  order,  a  know- 
ledge of  human  nature,  and  a  wonderful 
appreciation  of  protective  colors  and  attitudes. 
It  is  the  common  method  of  the  sticklers 
for  "  instinct "  to  account,  or  try  to  do  so,  for 
all  actions  of  the  lower  orders  in  any  way  to 
avoid  crediting  them  with  intelligence.  Who 
taught  the  bird  who  flings  herself  down  be- 
fore the  hunter,  limping  and  fluttering  as  if 
badly  hurt,  that  in  this  way  she  can  lure  men 
and  beasts  away  from  her  helpless  young? 
Who  taught  her  the  value  of  protective  color 
and  of  misleading  attitudes  in  times  of  ex- 
treme danger?  Does  it  not  look  a  little  like 
reasoning  from  experience  ?  If  not  her  own 
experience,  that  of  some  ancestor  who  has 
handed  it  down  and  made  it  an  inheritance  ? 


202  THE   BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

Trailing,  that  is  acting  as  if  badly  wounded 
and  almost  helpless,  to  draw  the  enemy  away 
from  nest  or  helpless  young  in  the  hope  of 
securing  her,  is  one  of  the  most  common 
protective  devices.  We  are  all  familiar  with 
it  in  books,  if  not  from  personal  experience. 
Ground-loving  birds  are  notorious  for  the 
habit,  and  some  of  their  antics  are  grotesque, 
and  would  be  funny  if  they  were  not  so  pitiful, 
• — such  dire  tragedy  on  the  side  of  the  bird. 

One  of  the  drollest,  from  our  point  of  view, 
is  that  practiced  by  the  whip-poor-will.  Not 
contenting  herself  with  going  ahead  with  limp- 
ing gait  and  fluttering  wings,  she  flops  around 
the  enemy  in  circles,  flapping  her  wings, 
spreading  her  tail,  and  uttering  a  cry  like  the 
whine  of  a  young  puppy.  She  has  less  need 
of  making  this  display  than  have  some  other 
birds,  for  eggs  and  young,  although  lying 
absolutely  uncovered  on  the  ground,  are  so 
protected  by  their  coloring  that  if  once  the 
eye  is  drawn  from  them,  they  are  practically 
invisible. 

Different  from  whip-poor-will  tactics  was 
the  method  of  a  mother  cuckoo  whom  I  once 
discovered  in  charge  of  an  infant,  evidently 


MEANS   OF  DEFENSE  AND  ATTACK    203 

on  his  first  outing.  Drawn  by  his  insistent 
demand  for  food,  I  came  unexpectedly  upon 
the  pair  in  a  retired  spot  in  the  woods.  At 
sight  of  me  the  mother  instantly  left  her  clam- 
orous offspring  and  flew  to  the  lowest  limb 
of  a  tree  near  by,  where  she  treated  me  to  a 
series  of  theatrical  postures,  bows,  feather  dis- 
plays, and  acrobatic  performances  wonderful 
to  see,  keeping  up  at  the  same  time  a  low  cry 
which  had  instantly  silenced  the  baby  cries  I 
had  heard.  Never  for  an  instant  taking  her 
eyes  off  me,  nor  interrupting  her  remarkable 
demonstrations,  the  anxious  mother  very 
gradually,  almost  imperceptibly,  moved  away, 
a  twig  at  a  time,  while  I  followed,  fascinated 
and  far  more  interested  in  her  dramatic  efforts 
than  in  finding  her  youngling.  When  she  had 
thus  drawn  me  several  feet  away  from  the 
dangerous  spot,  presto !  she  took  to  her  wings 
and  was  gone. 

A  method  similar  to  that  of  my  cuckoo  is 
said  to  be  adopted  by  a  bird  of  very  different 
size  and  habits,  the  South  American  ostrich, 
or  nandu.  The  poses  and  acrobatic  feats  of 
this  bird  take  a  form  suggestive  of  a  man  in 
a  desperate  state  of  intoxication.  With  ruffled 


204  THE   BIRD   OUR   BROTHER 

plumage  and  wings  helplessly  flapping,  he 
staggers  about  as  if  hardly  able  to  keep  his 
footing.  Few  hunters  and  no  dogs  are  able  to 
resist  this  beguilement,  while  the  little  family 
he  is  thus  protecting,  crouching  flat  and  mo- 
tionless upon  the  sand,  are  altogether  over- 
looked and  forgotten. 

Certain  sand  grouse,  relying  upon  their 
color  resemblance  to  the  sand-heaps  among 
which  they  live,  simply  flatten  themselves  on 
the  ground  where  they  stand,  and  in  this  posi- 
tion they  can  with  difficulty  be  distinguished 
from  their  surroundings. 

A  similar  way  was  adopted  by  a  downy 
woodpecker  seen  by  Maurice  Thompson,  when 
in  desperate  need  of  protection  from  a  pursuing 
goshawk.  The  small  bird  "  darted  through 
a  tuft  of  foliage  and  instantly  flattened  itself 
close  upon  the  body  of  a  thick  oak  bough, 
where  it  remained  as  motionless  as  the  bark 
itself.  The  hawk  alighted  on  the  same  bough 
within  two  feet  of  its  intended  victim,  and 
remained  sitting  there  for  several  minutes, 
evidently  looking  in  vain  for  the  vanished 
bird.  The  woodpecker  was  stretched  length- 
wise of  the  branch,  with  tail  and  beak  pressed 


MEANS  OF   DEFENSE  AND  ATTACK    205 

closely  to  the  bark,  its  black  and  white  feath- 
ers looking  like  a  continuation  of  the  wrinkles 
and  lichens."  "No  doubt,"  says  the  observer, 
"  those  were  moments  of  awful  suspense  for 
the  little  fellow,  but  its  ruse  succeeded,  and 
the  hawk  flew  away." 186 

The  elf  owl,  smallest  of  his  family  in 
America,  hides  himself  by  sitting  very  up- 
right on  a  branch  and  looking  like  a  part  of 
it.  Mr.  F.  Stephens  found  one  in  this  attitude, 
who  was  holding  one  wing  up  before  his 
face.  He  might  not  have  been  discovered  but 
for  the  fact  that  the  eyes  just  showed  above 
the  wing  and  caught  the  observer's  atten- 
tion.187 

Owls  have  wonderful  power  of  assuming 
protective  shapes.  Mr.  Bolles  says:  "My 
great  horned  owl  can  vary  at  will  from  a 
mass  of  bristling  feathers  a  yard  wide,  sway- 
ing from  side  to  side  as  he  rocks  from  one 
foot  to  the  other,  to  a  slim,  sleek,  brown  post 
only  a  few  inches  wide,  with  two  jagged 
points  rising  from  its  upper  margin.  In  re- 
pose he  is  a  well-rounded,  comfortable  mass  of 
feathers."188 

The  control  of  owls  over  their  feathers  is 


206  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

so  great  that  they  can  draw  themselves  into  a 
small  compass  and  be  completely  hidden  in 
plain  sight.  Their  colors  blend  with  a  stump  ; 
they  close  their  feathered  eyelids,  leaving  only 
a  crack,  and  sit  perfectly  still  an  hour  at  a 
time.  Mr.  Bolles  once  lost  one  of  his  tame 
owls  in  this  way,  and  hunted  far  and  wide 
while  he  was  close  beside  him.  This  feather- 
control  is  not  limited  to  a  disguise.  They 
ruffle  or  smooth,  expand  or  contract  their 
plumage  in  many  ways.  The  barred  owl, 
when  stepping  stealthily  across  a  floor  after  a 
dead  mouse  drawn  by  a  thread,  tucks  up  his 
feathers  as  neatly  as  a  woman  holds  her  skirts 
out  of  the  mud,  and  when  eating,  the  feathers 
around  the  mouth  are  daintily  drawn  aside 
out  of  the  way  of  harm,  in  a  most  convenient 
way.189 

Mr.  Beebe  tells  of  a  remarkable  case  of 
taking  advantage  of  protective  resemblance. 
The  birds  were  the  red-and-blue-headed  parra- 
keets.  "  When  frightened  they  always  flew  to 
a  curious  tree  which,  though  bare  of  leaves, 
was  sparsely  covered  with  an  odd-looking, 
long,  and  four-sided  fruit  of  a  green  color. 
Under  such  circumstances  they  alighted  all 


MEANS  OF  DEFENSE  AND  ATTACK  207 

together,  and  unlike  their  usual  custom  of 
perching  in  pairs,  they  scattered  all  over  the 
tree,  stood  very  upright,  and  remained  mo- 
tionless. From  a  distance  of  fifty  feet  it  was 
impossible  to  distinguish  parrakeet  from  fruit, 
so  close  was  the  resemblance.  A  hawk  dashed 
down  once  and  carried  away  a  bird,  but  the 
others  remained  as  still  as  if  they  were  inani- 
mate fruit.  This  silent  trust  in  the  protective 
resemblance  of  the  green  fruit  was  most  re- 
markable, when  we  remembered  the  frantic 
shrieks  which  these  birds  always  set  up  at  the 
approach  of  danger,  when  they  happened  to 
be  caught  away  from  one  of  these  parrot- 
fruit  trees/'190  " 

Certain  grouse  of  the  far  north,  the  willow 
ptarmigan,  says  Nelson,  when  they  sleep  un- 
der the  deep  snow,  protect  themselves  from 
prowling  enemies  by  flying  directly  down  to 
the  spot  and  diving  under,  not  leaving  a  foot 
track  anywhere.  In  this  place  the  bird  makes 
a  little  form  in  which  he  sleeps.  In  this  way 
no  enemy  can  be  drawn  to  him  by  tracks.191 

Feigning  death  shows,  perhaps,  even  a 
greater  degree  of  bird  wisdom.  Several  birds 
are  known  to  adopt  this  stratagem,  and 


208  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

though  in  some  cases  it  may  be,  as  has  been 
suggested,  a  genuine  faint  from  terror,  in 
others  it  is  plainly  a  trick  with  intent  to  de- 
ceive. For  instance,  the  common  humming- 
bird, the  ruby-throat,  while  lying  in  the  hand 
apparently  dead,  keeps  very  good  watch  for 
an  opportunity  to  escape ;  a  loosened  hold  is 
the  signal  for  instant  departure,  and  a  slight 
and  cautious  unclosing  of  an  eye  indicates  a 
mind  alert  for  favorable  chances. 

The  elf  owl  of  the  West  makes  no  resist- 
ance when  drawn  from  its  domicile,  lying 
limp  as  if  dead.  But  if  the  detaining  hand  is 
opened  for  an  instant  to  examine  the  pretty 
plumage  it  is  up  and  away.192 

A  common  partridge  of  the  South  Ameri- 
can pampas  carries  the  drama  a  step  farther. 
At  first  he  resists  capture  by  violent  strug- 
gles. Then,  as  if  exhausted,  he  gasps  two  or 
three  times,  his  head  drops,  eyes  close,  body 
falls  limp ;  plainly  he  is  dead  in  the  hand. 
But  a  loosening  of  the  hold  brings  him  in- 
stantly to  life  and  a  fight  for  liberty.193 

Some  of  our  marsh-lovers  are  exceedingly 
expert  at  taking  advantage  of  protective  color- 
ing, and  display  remarkable  knowledge  of  their 


MEANS  OF  DEFENSE  AND  ATTACK  209 

personal  appearance  and  their  resemblance  to 
the  reeds  among  which  they  dwell.  A  certain 
heron  will  not  only  stretch  up  his  long  neck, 
turn  his  beak  skyward,  and  remain  quiet,  to 
imitate  the  reeds,  but  he  will  keep  his  breast, 
the  color  of  which  is  like  a  faded  reed,  to- 
wards the  enemy,  turning  imperceptibly  as 
the  man  walks  round.  A  naturalist  made 
some  experiments  with  a  bird  enacting  this 
little  drama.  He  found  him  perfectly  rigid, 
and  when  with  his  hand  he  bent  the  bird's 
head  down  to  its  natural  position,  it  instantly 
sprang  back  like  a  steel  spring.194 

The  bittern  is  an  adept  at  concealing  him- 
self in  this  way.  His  plumage  is  a  perfect 
match  for  the  swampy  tangle  in  which  he 
lives.  He  simply  draws  himself  up  long  and 
slim,  points  his  sharp  beak  upward,  and  stands 
like  a  statue,  when  one  may  almost  touch  him 
without  seeing  him.  If,  however,  he  is  cap- 
tured, he  does  not  yield  without  a  struggle. 
He  can  make  a  very  good  fight  for  liberty ; 
and  liberty  and  solitude  in  his  beloved  swamp 
are  all  the  charms  life  has  for  him.  When  he 
assumes  the  defensive,  he  flings  himself  on 
his  back,  draws  up  his  legs,  and  presents  claws 


210  THE  BIRD   OUR   BROTHER 

and  beak  to  the  enemy.  He  will  grapple  like  a 
cat,  and  his  sharp  beak  is  no  mean  weapon.195 

Many  birds  find  their  safety  in  hiding.  The 
hiding-place  of  the  divers  is  always  at  hand, 
and  very  cleverly  do  they  avail  themselves  of 
it;  they  simply  sink,  down  to  their  nostrils 
often,  in  which  attitude  some  of  them  —  cor- 
morants, grebes,  and  others  —  will  hold  them- 
selves for  a  long  time,  sometimes  perfectly  still, 
and  again  keeping  so  close  to  a  boat  that  they 
cannot  be  seen  by  the  sportsmen  in  it,  who 
meanwhile  are  looking  all  about  for  the  mys- 
teriously vanished  bird.  The  loon,  marvelous 
master  of  his  chosen  element,  simply  swims 
under  water  out  of  the  reach  of  pursuers, 
easily  remaining  below  the  surface  a  long 
time. 

Land-birds,  having  no  such  cpnvenient  ref- 
uge at  hand,  have  to  depend  on  thickets  to 
dive  into  or  tree  trunks  to  hide  behind.  The 
golden-winged  woodpecker,  says  Audubon, 
escapes  a  hawk,  who  has  his  eye  on  him  for 
a  dinner,  by  scrambling  round  and  round  a 
tree  trunk  faster  than  the  hawk  can  follow  in 
the  air.196 

Devices  of  mother  birds  to  conceal  their 


MEANS  OF  DEFENSE  AND  ATTACK  211 

young  are  various  and  sometimes  exceedingly 
clever.  A  wild  duck  surprised  by  a  bird  of 
prey  or  other  enemy  with  her  ducklings 
around  her,  gives  them  a  chance  to  hide  by 
beating  the  water  with  her  wings  and  thus 
sending  up  a  great  shower  of  spray.  When 
the  turmoil  is  over  and  the  water  still  again 
not  a  duckling  is  to  be  seen.  All  have  hidden 
and  the  mother  is  ready  to  fight,  if  need  be. 
The  same  way  is  taken  by  the  loon,  it  is  said. 

The  famous  skylark  of  Europe  has  a  simple 
way  of  protecting  himself  against  a  bird  of 
prey  who  attempts  to  capture  him  when  on 
wing.  He  simply  flies  high  above  the  enemy, 
and  as  he  is  able  to  reach  a  greater  height 
than  the  larger  bird  and  can  remain  on  wing 
a  long  time,  he  can  discourage  or  tire  out 
his  assailant  and  come  down  in  safety  to  his 
home  in  the  grass. 

That  in  union  there  is  strength  has  been 
learned  by  birds  as  well  as  by  men.  We  are 
unfortunately  too  familiar  with  the  fact  that 
this  is  the  method  of  the  English  sparrow,  his 
tactics  being  always,  in  offense  or  defense,  to 
assemble  a  mob.  The  coot  carries  out  these 
tactics  in  a  unique  way.  One  of  these  water- 


212  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

birds  is  a  tasty  morsel  for  a  certain  eagle,  and 
when  he  starts  down  to  seize  one  of  a  flock 
sailing  about  in  their  usual  fashion,  they  sim- 
ply close  up  together  and  all  begin  throwing 
up  water  with  wings  or  feet,  not  only  baffling 
the  large  bird,  but  so  drenching  his  plumage 
that  occasionally  he  has  difficulty  in  reaching 
land.197  The  coot  has  been  considered  almost 
as  much  of  a  fool  as  the  goose,  and  his  name 
also  is  a  synonym  for  stupidity.  But  it  is  no 
more  true  of  the  coot  than  of  the  goose.  He 
is  an  intelligent  bird,  say  those  who  know  him 
well.  Audubon  long  ago  cleared  the  reputa- 
tion of  the  goose. 

One  service  to  the  bird  world  in  general, 
performed  by  a  few  birds,  is  a  sort  of  police 
duty,  keeping  watch  for  danger  and  announ- 
cing it  to  all  within  hearing.  In  some  places 
these  self-appointed  guardians  have  been  rec- 
ognized and  named  by  man.  In  England  the 
common  blackbird  is  called  "  the  bellman  of 
the  woods,"  and  he  deserves  the  name,  being 
always  on  hand,  suspicious  and  alert,  and  giv- 
ing timely  notice  in  cries  that  bird  and  beast 
well  understand.198  Jays  also  sometimes  as- 
sume this  office. 


MEANS  OF  DEFENSE  AND  ATTACK  213 

But  in  our  part  of  the  world  the  rohin  is 
the  alarmist,  and  when  his  suspicions  are 
aroused  nothing  can  tire  him  out.  If  one  in- 
dividual becomes  exhausted  by  repeating  his 
monotonous  loud  danger  cry,  he  will  be  re- 
lieved by  others  of  his  kind.  In  trying  to 
outstay  this  too  persistent  bird,  I  have  seen 
one  relieved  by  three  or  four  others  in  turn. 
The  warning  outcry  could  not  be  stilled  till 
every  robin  in  the  neighborhood  was  exhausted, 
nor  even  then,  I  believe,  for  so  great  is  their 
esprit  de  corps  that  if  necessary  the  robin 
population  of  a  whole  county  would  assemble 
to  help. 

As  to  offensive  action  among  the  birds,  I 
find  few  who  desire  to  fight  or  pick  a  quarrel. 
One  of  the  most  troublesome  birds  for  his 
offensive  attitude  towards  others  is,  again,  I 
am  sorry  to  say,  our  own  dear  robin.  Except- 
ing the  English  sparrow,  he  is  the  most  pug- 
nacious bird  of  a  neighborhood,  driving  away 
many  whom  we  should  be  glad  to  have  about  us, 
especially  the  shyer  birds.  So  well  is  this  fact 
known  by  real  observers  that  no  authorities 
are  called  for  to  substantiate  my  statement. 

In  southern  California,  where  the  robin's 


214  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

familiar  place  about  the  house  is  filled  by  the 
mockingbird,  he  plays  the  same  role,  deciding 
what  smaller  birds  shall  or  shall  not  reside  in 
the  neighborhood  he  has  adopted  for  his  own, 
and  relentlessly  driving  away  those  he  has 
decided  shall  not. 

A  case  which  has  lately  come  under  my 
own  eye  is  of  one  of  these  birds,  who  claims 
for  himself  a  table,  spread  every  day  for  the 
feathered  folk,  in  a  neighboring  yard.  This 
table  offers  not  only  crumbs  and  bits  from 
the  family  table,  but  bones  not  too  thoroughly 
stripped  of  meat,  fruit,  such  as  grapes  in 
their  season  and  halved  oranges  when  grapes 
are  gone,  and,  perhaps  more  prized  than  all,  a 
dish  of  water  well  sweetened  with  sugar,  fresh 
every  morning. 

Of  this  bountiful  daily  repast  a  particular 
mocker  claims  ownership,  and  over  it  he 
stands  guard  the  whole  day.  Some  birds  he 
allows  to  partake,  but  others  —  for  no  reason 
that  his  puzzled  human  neighbors  can  dis- 
cover —  he  drives  away  with  savage  cries, 
and  threatening  motions.  So  inflexible  is  his 
determination  to  dictate  who  shall  partake 
of  the  banquet  that  he  rarely  leaves  his  post. 


MEANS  OF  DEFENSE  AND  ATTACK  215 

Spring  now  stirs  in  his  blood.  Sing  he 
must,  and  sing  he  does,  but  he  does  not  for- 
sake his  charge.  The  joy  of  song  with  these 
birds  is  also  a  joy  of  motion,  —  they  love 
to  sing  one  moment  on  one  perch,  then  fly 
ecstatically  to  another,  from  that  to  a  third, 
or  up  into  the  air  and  float  down  in  evident 
rapture,  full  of  graceful  and  ecstatic  move- 
ments, singing  all  the  while.  But  my  neigh- 
bor denies  himself  most  of  this  delight  of 
movement.  He  does  occasionally  yield  an  in- 
stant and  flies  into  the  nearest  pepper-tree 
and  from  there  to  the  roof  of  the  cottage,  but 
only  for  a  moment,  and  never  out  of  sight  of 
his  kingdom.  He  even  seems  to  protest  against 
a  human  visitor.  He  will  remain  at  his  post, 
often  singing  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  while  a 
person  walks  up  to  within  touching  distance 
of  him,  and  although  keeping  a  very  sharp 
eye  on  the  intruder  he  will  not  leave  his  post 
nor  stop  singing,  which  is  remarkable  in  this 
wise  and  wary  bird. 

A  great  deal  has  been  said  and  is  constantly 
repeated  about  the  bellicosity  of  the  king- 
bird. I  have  had  exceptional  opportunities  for 
study  of  this  much  maligned  fellow  creature, 


216  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER        V1 

and,  having  from  the  first  been  especially 
anxious  to  learn  whether  all  that  is  said  of 
him  is  true,  have  given  much  time  and  thought 
to  observing  him.  From  all  my  experience  of 
his  ways  in  nesting-time  and  at  other  times 
in  his  life,  this  is  my  deliberate  conclusion : 
Excepting  when  he  has  a  nest  to  guard,  he  is 
one  of  our  most  peaceable  birds,  minding  his 
own  business  as  well  as  any  bird  I  know,  and 
better  than  most  of  them.  And  even  when 
the  responsibilities  of  paternity  are  upon  him, 
he  shows  antagonism  only  to  birds  who  en- 
croach upon  his  own  nest  tree,  and  the  meek- 
est bird  that  flies  will  protect  his  own.  I  have 
even  seen  him,  where  two  or  three  other  birds 
had  nests  in  the  same  large  tree,  living  most 
amicably  with  them  all. 

All  this  with  one  exception.  Against  the 
crow  he  seems  to  have  a  settled  grudge.  I 
never  saw  a  crow  fly  over  a  kingbird  neigh- 
borhood without  being  chased. 

The  blue  jay  is  another  bird  against  whom 
all  sensational  pens  are  turned,  but  I  am  con- 
vinced from  all  I  can  learn  both  from  much 
observation  and  from  the  writings  of  trust- 
worthy observers  that  he  is  not  nearly  so  black 


MEANS  OF  DEFENSE  AND  ATTACK  217 

as  he  is  painted.  I  do  not  deny  that  he  some- 
times regales  his  family  and  perhaps  himself 
with  the  eggs  and  young  of  his  neighbors,  but 
I  do  deny  that  this  is  his  constant  or  invari- 
able custom,  and  it  has  been  amply  proved  by 
careful  investigation  that  he  is  one  of  our 
most  useful  servants.  Moreover,  with  how 
little  grace  come  these  accusations  from  our 
hunting  and  killing  race  ! 

A  great  deal  of  sentiment  is  lavished  upon 
birds  who  are  the  prey  of  others,  and  the  birds 
who  prey  —  sportsmen  should  we  not  call 
them  ?  —  are  execrated  and  usually  destroyed 
without  mercy  by  men  who  are  engaged  in 
the  same  business  themselves.  Hear  the  words 
of  the  writer  who  conceals  his  identity  under 
the  name  "  A  Son  of  the  Marshes,"  yet  who  is 
accepted  as  a  trustworthy  student  of  nature. 
He  says :  "  It  is  an  imperative  law  of  Nature 
that  one  creature  shall  contribute  in  some  way 
to  the  support  of  another.  The  question  of 
cruelty  is  not  to  be  considered  for.  one  moment, 
for  predaceous  creatures  kill  quickly,  and  be- 
fore the  hunted  one  can  fully  make  out  what 
is  the  matter,  it  is  dead,  practice  in  this  as  in 
other  matters  making  perfect."  m 


218  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

The  weapons  of  birds  are  more  numerous 
than  one  would  suspect.  Not  only  beak  and 
claws,  but  wings  capable  of  delivering  severe 
blows,  spurs  on  feet  or  wings,  which  are  effec- 
tive in  warfare,  and  legs,  such  as  possessed  by 
ostrich  and  cassowary,  are  able  to  administer 
killing  blows. 

Many  authentic  accounts  of  fighting  birds 
could  be  given,  but  the  fact  that  they  do  fight 
occasionally  needs  no  proving.  Some  of  the 
birds  common  about  our  houses  have  been 
seen  to  dispute  and  fight,  even  to  the  death 
sometimes,  over  the  possession  of  a  bird-house 
or  a  favorite  nesting-place.  Martins  and  swal- 
lows often  come  into  collision  with  the  bully- 
ing English  sparrow.  Even  the  "  gentle  blue- 
bird "  shows  himself  a  not  contemptible  fighter 
when  it  comes  to  the  usurpation  of  his  quar- 
ters by  the  impertinent  foreigner. 

A  story  is  told  of  a  common  phoebe, — ordi- 
narily a  peaceable  bird,  —  who  found  a  robin 
in  possession  of  the  nesting-place  she  had  oc- 
cupied for  several  years.  The  quarrel  between 
the  two  birds  was  noticed  by  the  family  under 
whose  piazza  the  affair  took  place,  but  no- 
thing more  was  thought  about  it  till  the  fall, 


MEANS  OF  DEFENSE  AND  ATTACK  219 

when  attention  was  attracted  to  the  peculiar 
shape  of  the  nest.  Upon  examination,  the 
body  of  the  robin  was  discovered  walled  up 
in  the  basement  of  the  phoebe's  nest,  the 
phoebe  having  built  another  nest  over  the  old 
one,  completely  enclosing  her  dead  enemy.200 

Mr.  Baskett  once  saw  two  female  blue- 
birds fighting  over  a  nesting-place,  while  the 
two  males  looked  on,  fluttering  around  as  if 
shocked.  The  defender  of  her  nest  bore  her 
opponent  down  in  a  watering-trough.  Though 
a  little  damp  herself,  she  was  able  to  fly. 
"  Her  mate  followed  her  up  to  the  home  box, 
caroling  of  her  prowess.  But  she  looked  in- 
deed as  'mad  as  a  wet  hen,'  and  seemed  to 
say  by  her  manner  that  if  he  were  half  a  man 
she  would  not  have  to  do  everything."  The 
bird  in  the  water  was,  however,  unable  to  ex- 
tricate herself,  and  Mr.  Baskett  had  to  rescue 
her  and  warm  and  dry  her  in  the  house.201 

A  fight  that  is  more  than  half  pretense  and 
amusing  to  spectators  is  that  of  a  European 
bird,  the  ruff,  mentioned  in  connection  with 
the  feather  shows  of  courtship.  The  perform- 
ance is  thus  described:  "Fighting  ruffs,  now 
arrayed  in  their  gayest  dress,  meet  in  combat. 


220  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

With  depressed  head  each  directs  his  beak 
like  a  couched  lance  against  the  bright  neck- 
collar  which  serves  his  foe  for  shield.  They 
stand  in  most  defiant  attitudes,  irresistibly 
amusing  to  us :  they  look  at  each  other  with 
their  sharp  eyes  and  then  make  a  rush,  each 
making  a  thrust  and  at  the  same  time  receiv- 
ing one  on  his  feathery  shield.  But  neither  of 
the  heroes  is  in  any  way  injured,  and  neither 
allows  the  dueling  to  interfere  with  less  ex- 
citing business,  for  if  one  sees  a  fly  just  set- 
tling on  a  stem,  he  runs  hastily,  seizes  the 
booty,  and  returns  refreshed  to  the  fray."  m 


XI 

HIS  ODD  WAYS 


There  is  no  doubt  that  birds  have  ways  and  reasons 
for  them  which  man  is  very  unlikely  ever  to  be  able  to 
understand.  — W.  WARDE  FOWLER,  A  Year  With  the 
Birds. 

The  antics  of  birds  are  so  very  curious  and  the  whole 
subject  of  their  origin  and  meaning  is  so  full  of  interest 
that  nothing  which  might  by  any  possibility  throw  light 
upon  them  ought  to  be  neglected  or  can  be  too  closely 
observed.  —  EDMUND  SELOUS,  Bird  Watching  in  the 
Shetlands. 


XI 

HIS  ODD  WAYS 

IN  this  interesting  study  of  the  lives  of  our 
little  brothers  we  are  constantly  coming  upon 
strange  and  to  us  unaccountable  habits,  not 
alone  of  individuals  but  of  whole  families, 
which  differentiate  them  from  each  other  as 
completely  as  do  their  external  forms,  and 
offer  to  the  student  an  almost  inexhaustible 
field  of  interest  and  investigation. 

What,  for  example,  can  be  more  extraordi- 
nary than  that  a  bird  should  choose  for  his 
residence  the  home  of  a  beast,  sharing  it  with 
him,  in  fact,  and  living,  it  is  supposed,  in  per- 
fectly amicable  relations  with  his  neighbor  in 
fur  ?  This,  as  mentioned  in  another  chapter,  is 
the  habit  of  our  small  owl  of  the  Western  prai- 
ries. This  astute  little  fellow,  having  in  charge 
the  reduction  of  the  insect  hosts  of  that  part 
of  the  world,  where  are  no  trees  or  other  con- 
veniences for  a  home,  and  having  no  equip- 
ment for  excavation,  simply  takes  lodgings  in 
the  unoccupied  apartments  of  a  neighbor  pos- 


224  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

sessed  of  a  mania  for  digging,  as  already  men- 
tioned. 

On  account  of  the  difficulty  of  study  in  the 
inhospitable  land  where  this  curiously  assorted 
household  exists,  the  relations  of  the  two 
families  have  not  been  satisfactorily  observed, 
but  one  interesting  habit  of  the  bird  has  been 
so  often  noted  by  travelers  that  he  has  been 
dubbed  the  "  how-de-do  "  owl,  and  set  up  as  a 
model  of  polite  manners.  This  habit  is  his 
custom  of  bowing  to  strangers  who  approach 
him.  His  bows  and  dramatic  poses  have  been 
described  as  extremely  ludicrous  by  Dr.  Coues 
and  others,  and,  according  to  Mr.  Frederic 
W.  True,  " polite  as  a  prairie-dog  owl"  is  a 
common  comparison  in  the  southwestern  part 
of  the  country. 

A  curious  habit  which  sometimes  results  in 
a  droll  tableau  is  that  of  a  few  birds,  who 
when  suddenly  alarmed  become  instantly 
motionless  in  whatever  position  they  chance 
to  be,  as  if,  as  we  commonly  say,  they  were 
turned  to  stone.  I  have  often  seen  this  perform- 
ance in  the  mourning  dove.  Come  upon  one 
of  these  birds  unexpectedly  and  it  will  not 
move  a  hair's  breadth.  If  the  head  is  turned 


HIS  ODD  WAYS  225 

one  side,  so  it  will  remain ;  if  preening  is  in 
progress,  the  beak  will  not  release  the  feather 
it  is  dressing.  Lloyd  Morgan  says  this  is  the 
custom  with  young  pheasants.  If  startled  by 
a  sudden  noise,  they  will  instantly  become 
motionless,  even  with  one  foot  raised  in  walk- 
ing, or  the  head  turned  one  side.203 

In  the  little-known  country  Alaska,  ravens 
indulge  in  some  peculiar  wing  feats  that  seem 
so  impossible  that  if  they  were  not  reported 
by  so  reputable  a  witness  as  Mr.  Turner  and 
confirmed  by  observations  in  other  parts  of 
the  world,  they  would  inevitably  be  set  down 
as  "  fake  natural  history  "  and  met  with  the 
virtuous  scorn  of  those  of  us  who  "  know  bet- 
ter." As  mentioned  in  the  chapter  on  amuse- 
ments, the  unnatural  birds,  being  apparently 
in  possession  of  all  their  senses,  violate  all  the 
traditions  by  flying  with  one  wing  closed  and 
the  other  held  straight  up  in  the  air.204  A  simi- 
lar eccentricity  is  described  on  the  other  side 
of  the  globe,  as  noted  in  the  chapter  cited. 

Another  peculiar  wing  feat  is  reported  of 
the  rhea,  or  South  American  ostrich,  who, 
when  pursued  by  an  enemy,  and  presumably 
putting  forth  all  his  powers  to  escape,  holds 


226  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

one  wing  straight  up  like  a  sail.205  And  in 
fact  this  may  possibly  act  as  a  sail  in  helping 
him  on. 

Still  another  wing  feat  is  related  of  a 
hawk,  Peale's  falcon,  who  catches  murrelets 
in  Alaska  and  eats  on  the  wing,  hovering 
almost  stationary  for  several  minutes  while 
holding  the  prey  up  to  the  beak  with  both 
feet  and  devouring  it.206 

We  are  accustomed  very  naturally  to  asso- 
ciate our  winged  neighbors  with  the  air  and 
the  dominion  thereof,  but  the  freedom  and 
ease  of  the  water-lovers  in  their  chosen  ele- 
ment is  quite  as  wonderful.  The  feats  of 
that  strange  bird  the  loon,  or  great  north- 
ern diver,  are  too  well  known  to  be  repeated. 
More  extraordinary  are  the  performances  of 
the  water  ouzel,  or  American  dipper,  a  wholly 
charming  bird  of  our  Western  mountain 
streams,  who,  lacking  web  feet,  says  Mr. 
Muir,  does  not  swim  much  on  the  surface, 
but  carries  on  his  operations  beneath  the  sur- 
face. On  the  bottom  of  the  swift-running 
stream  he  seeks  his  food,  through  its  rush- 
ing waters  he  flies  with  ease,  using  his  wings 
as  other  birds  use  theirs  in  the  air.  Even 


HIS  ODD  WAYS  227 

the  strong  currents  of  the  rapids  do  not  im- 
pede his  course.207  One  of  the  most  delight- 
ful studies  of  a  Western  summer  was  of  this 
attractive  bird  in  his  remarkable  evolutions 
under  water.208 

Another  bird  to  whom  the  water  is  almost 
his  native  element  is  the  grebe,  whose  float- 
ing, water-soaked  nest  is  well  known.  When 
a  mother  grebe,  having  her  little  flock  in  the 
water  about  her,  is  pursued,  the  youngsters, 
probably  at  her  call,  scramble  upon  her  back, 
and  she,  by  a  quick  upward  movement  of  the 
wings,  appears  to  clasp  them  against  her  body, 
then  instantly  dives  below  the  surface.  When, 
after  a  few  moments,  she  reappears,  the  whole 
party  will  be  seen  still  held  in  safety  on  her 
back.209 

Life  in  and  about  the  sea  seems  to  have 
some  mysterious  effect  on  birds.  They  cer- 
tainly exhibit  remarkable  and  what  to  us 
seem  unbirdlike  eccentricities.  The  naturalist 
on  the  Challenger  reports  that  on  Kerguelen's 
Land  the  penguins  of  a  certain  species  do  not 
hop,  as  is  the  custom  of  most  short-legged 
birds,  but  run  with  some  speed,  and  when 
hotly  pursued,  throw  themselves  on  their 


228  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

breasts  and  struggle  along,  rowing  them- 
selves, as  it  were,  with  violent  blows  of  their 
wings  on  the  sand  or  mud,  incidentally  dash- 
ing plenty  of  mud  into  the  eyes  of  their  pur- 
suers. Of  another  species,  the  king  penguin, 
he  says  that  they  stand  erect,  their  short  legs 
being  set  far  back  on  their  bodies,  and  the 
youngsters  are  very  droll-looking  creatures 
in  chocolate-colored  down  standing  stiffly  up 
with  their  noses  in  the  air.210 

An  interesting  fact  about  another  sea-bird, 
the  kittiwake  gull,  is  told  by  Mr.  Brewster. 
The  bird,  being  young  and  in  confinement, 
was  closely  watched.  He  ate  freely  of  his 
natural  food,  fish,  but  utterly  refused  to 
drink.  No  amount  of  fresh  water  tempted 
him  in  the  least,  and  much  concern  was  felt 
for  his  health.  When,  however,  he  was  placed 
in  a  basin  of  salt  water  for  the  purpose  of 
bathing,  to  the  surprise  of  his  keeper  he  in- 
stantly began  to  drink.  After  that  he  was 
regularly  supplied  with  his  native  beverage, 
which  he  drank  freely,  and  from  that  time 
flourished  to  the  satisfaction  of  all.211 

Many  curious  facts  have  been  recorded 
connected  with  the  sleeping  habits  of  birds. 


HIS  ODD  WAYS  229 

Bob  White's  clever  arrangement  of  sleeping 
in  a  group  with  heads  turned  outward,  so 
that  in  case  of  sudden  alarm  all  would  fly  in 
different  directions,  is  well  known. 

Our  own  chimney  swifts  sleep,  as  we  know, 
clinging  to  the  inside  of  a  chimney.  Audu- 
bon's  interesting  account  of  visiting  a  colony 
of  these  birds  sleeping  in  the  hollow  trunk  of 
a  great  tree  has  often  been  quoted. 

Mr.  Keyser,  pursuing  his  studies  at  night, 
found  sparrows  sleeping  in  cosy  bedrooms 
hollowed  out  under  the  thickly  growing  grass, 
with  an  entrance  on  one  side,  probably  formed 
by  field  mice,  he  suggests,  for  their  own  com- 
fort. He  also  found  juncoes  under  brush 
heaps,  and  other  birds  in  thick,  thorny 
bushes.212 

Birds  who  sleep  on  the  water  —  and  they 
are  numerous — are  always  in  danger  of  drift- 
ing to  the  shore,  where  lies  their  greatest 
danger.  In  the  Zoological  Gardens  of  London 
it  has  been  discovered  that  ducks  and  other 
water-lovers  have  evolved  a  way  of  avoiding 
this  danger.  Tucking  one  foot  up  among 
their  feathers,  they  keep  the  other  in  the 
water  and  gently  paddle,  with  the  result 


230  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

that  they  revolve  in  circles  and  keep  at  a 
safe  distance  from  land, — "a  kind  of  sleep- 
walking turned  to  good  account/'  says  Mr. 
Headley.213 

"  The  habits  of  birds  in  regard  to  sleep," 
says  Cornish,  "  are  very  unlike.  .  .  .  The 
sleeping-place  .  .  .  has  nothing  necessarily 
in  common  with  the  nest,  and  birds,  like  some 
other  animals  and  many  human  beings,  often 
prefer  complete  isolation  at  this  time.  They 
want  a  bedroom  to  themselves."  Sparrows 
appear  to  go  to  roost  in  companies,  he  goes 
on,  but  after  a  vast  amount  of  talk  and  fuss, 
do  not  cuddle  up  together  like  chickens,  but 
have  private  holes  and  corners  each  by  him- 
self. They  like  sleeping  in  the  side  of  straw 
ricks,  but  each  sparrow  has  its  own  little 
hollow  in  the  straw.214 

Snow  forms  a  welcome  roof  and  protection 
from  cold  for  many  a  bird.  The  stems  of  dead 
plants,  says  "  A  Son  of  the  Marshes,"  make 
a  thick  tangle  which  holds  the  snow  till  the 
whole  mass  becomes  a  solid  roof,  under  which 
blackcock  and  other  birds  live.215 

One  of  the  oddest  of  bird  ways  is  that  of 
the  honey-bird  of  Africa,  who  is  well  known 


HIS   ODD  WAYS  231 

to  lead  the  natives  to  a  tree  containing  honey. 
Mrs.  Martin  says  he  is  "  an  insignificant  look- 
ing little  brown  fellow  who  seems  possessed 
of  an  almost  uncanny  amount  of  intelligence." 
He  finds  a  hollow  tree  containing  honey  but 
is  unable  to  get  it  out,  so  he  wanders  about 
till  he  meets  somebody,  when  he  flies  around 
him,  chirping  and  acting  so  strangely  that  he 
is  often  supposed  to  be  an  escaped  cage-bird. 
If  he  is  followed  he  will  lead  to  the  honey 
tree  and  wait  until  the  honey  is  brought  out, 
when  he  takes  his  share.  The  natives  are 
careful  to  leave  him  a  good  portion.  One  day 
a  man  in  that  country  was  led  by  a  bird  of 
this  species  to  his  own  bee-hive,  close  to  his 
house.216 

There  is  no  better  place  in  which  to  look 
for  odd  ways  than  around  the  nests  and 
among  the  young  of  birds,  for  their  habits 
at  this  time  in  their  lives  differ  almost  as 
greatly  as  the  color  of  their  feathers.  Some 
bird  babies  go  on  all  fours,  —  creep,  in  fact. 
Such  is  the  custom  of  the  grebes,  who  find  it 
hard  to  walk  when  grown  up.  Indeed,  Mrs. 
Eckstorm,  who  has  studied  them  in  life,  says 
they  cannot  walk.  They  are  hatched  in  a  raft 


232  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

nest  and  hardly  know  life  away  from  the 
water,  hence  the  necessity,  when  out  of  their 
element,  of  calling  the  wings  to  aid  the  legs 
in  getting  about.217 

A  curious  custom  of  a  few  birds,  especially, 
in  our  country,  of  the  vireo  family,  is  sing- 
ing on  the  nest.  Most  birds  are  quiet  when 
about  the  nest,  but  the  vireos  seem  to  be  fear- 
less little  creatures,  and  besides  indulging  in 
song  they  readily  respond  to  gentle  human 
advances,  even  when  engaged  in  the  absorb- 
ing business  of  sitting.  Mr.  Torrey  induced 
one  of  the  family,  a  solitary  vireo,  to  take 
food  from  his  hand  and  water  from  a  tea- 
spoon while  on  the  nest,  and  Mr.  Walter  Faxon 
went  further  and  coaxed  another,  a  yellow- 
throat,  to  take  food  from  his  lips.  The  offering 
consisted  of  canker-worms  and  black  ants.218 

The  habit  of  the  European  cuckoo  of  lay- 
ing eggs  in  the  nests  of  other  birds  is  well 
known.  There  have  been  various  theories  to 
account  for  the  strange  habit.  Richard  Jeffer- 
ies  suggests  that  it  is  because  the  young  cuckoo 
is  such  an  enormous  eater  that  no  mother 
could  possibly  feed  a  nestful.  That  being  the 
case  we  must  admit  that  she  is  sensible  in 


HIS  ODD  WAYS  233 

calling  in  the  aid  of  her  neighbors,  for  she 
undoubtedly  feels  that  one  cuckoo  is  of  more 
value  than  many  small  birds.  And  this  is 
perhaps  literally  true,  even  from  the  human 
standpoint,  for  Mr.  Jefferies  says :  "  The 
effect  of  the  cuckoo's  course  is  to  cause  an 
immense  destruction  of  insects,  and  it  is  really 
one  of  the  most  valuable  as  well  as  the  most 
welcome  of  all  our  birds." 219 

The  old  story  that  bird  parents  poison  the 
young  who  have  been  made  captive  has  been 
repeated  and  denied  many  times,  but  there 
are  some  cases  of  the  sort  so  well  authenti- 
cated, says  "  A  Son  of  the  Marshes,"  that  it 
must  be  accepted  as  true.  Several  instances 
came  under  his  own  observation.220 

Mrs.  Wheelock  also  gives  an  account  of  a 
young  chickadee  she  had  taken  from  the  nest 
and  placed  in  a  box  with  slats  across  to  keep 
it  confined.  The  old  birds  found  it  and  fed 
it  regularly  for  a  while,  apparently  making 
efforts  to  release  the  youngster.  Suddenly 
they  stopped  coming  to  the  box,  and  the 
young  bird  died.  On  examination,  she  found 
a  half-swallowed  cedar-worm  in  its  mouth, 
which  seemed  to  be  the  cause  of  its  death.221 


234  THE  BIRD  OJR  BROTHER 

The  habit  of  "packing,"  as  it  is  called, 
that  is,  of  going  about  in  flocks,  is  very 
interesting,  and  there  is  much  doubt  as  to 
the  object  of  it.  If  it  is  of  use,  why  do  not 
all  birds  pack?  Many  of  them  never  merge 
their  individuality  says  Jefferies,  and  others, 
as  we  all  know,  spend  their  whole  lives  in  a 
crowd,  notably  most  sea-birds ;  others,  again, 
enjoy  companionship  only  at  night,  as  our 
common  robin. 

It  does  not  appear  so  strange  that  birds  of 
one  species  should  live  in  neighborly  fash- 
ion,—  we  are  well  accustomed  to  see  them 
in  flocks,  —  but  that  birds  of  many  species 
should  form  large  parties  is  a  remarkable 
thing,  to  be  seen  only  in  the  heavy  forests 
of  tropical  countries. 

In  these  wonderful  forests,  we  are  told  by 
Hudson,  birds  have  a  curious  habit  of  form- 
ing "  wandering  bands,"  composed  of  all  the 
different  species  in  the  district.  Excepting 
in  the  breeding-season,  when  each  pair  has 
its  own  domestic  cares,  these  gatherings  are 
formed  daily,  the  birds  beginning  to  assem- 
ble at  nine  or  ten  o'clock  and  continuing 
together  till  towards  evening,  when  they  sep- 


HIS  ODD  WAYS  235 

arate  to  their  several  sleeping-places.  This 
peculiar  habit  was  first  described  by  Mr. 
Bates.  The  grand  party  moves  along  peace- 
ably together,  each  individual  occupied  in 
searching  bark  or  leaf  or  twig  for  the  food 
he  prefers,  while  the  sound  of  the  crowd 
rustling  the  leaves  and  branches  is  like  the 
sound  of  rain.  In  these  lonely  Amazonian 
forests  for  long  intervals  one  will  see  no 
birds  and  hear  no  sound  of  their  voices; 
then  all  in  a  moment  the  trees  are  full  of 
them,  all  moving  along  industriously  hunt- 
ing for  food,  and  in  another  moment  all  are 
gone  and  the  forest  is  silent  as  before.  Hud- 
son says  that  smaller  bands  of  this  sort  are 
met  with  in  Patagonia.222 

Mr.  Cornish  gives  this  interesting  picture 
of  life  in  these  great  forests.  He  says  that 
in  a  tropical  forest  "life  goes  on  on  two 
levels.  There  is  an  upper  story  and  a  base- 
ment. The  basement  is  the  ground."  Over 
it  is  "  a  roof  of  foliage  so  lofty  that  [one] 
can  scarcely  distinguish  the  forms  of  the 
branches  which  support  its  leaves,  supposing 
that  there  were  light  sufficient  to  use  his  sight 
to  good  purpose.  But  the  tops  of  the  giant 


236  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

trees  are  so  dense  that  light  scarcely  pen- 
etrates, and  the  would-be  explorer  .  .  .  has 
to  tread  the  mazes  of  a  temple  of  twilight, 
in  which  all  life,  light,  and  beauty  exist,  not 
below  and  within,  but  upon  the  roof.  On  the 
side  remote  from  earth  life  goes  on  gayly 
and  with  such  completeness  that  not  only 
do  the  birds,  insects,  and  monkeys  enjoy  a 
world  of  their  own,  but  in  the  cups  and 
reservoirs  of  the  gigantic  flowers  and  creep- 
6rs  water-insects  and  mollusks  live  and  re- 
produce themselves  without  ever  coming  in 
contact  with  the  ground."  This  is  particu- 
larly the  case  in  the  island  of  Samar.  Many 
trees  are  more  than  two  hundred  and  forty 
feet  high.  "  The  forest  animals  —  monkeys, 
lorises,  and  the  like  —  live  at  a  height  of  two 
hundred  feet  from  the  ground,  that  being 
the  ( sunlight  level,'  below  which  direct  light 
and  heat  do  not  penetrate.  Invisible,  on  the 
top  of  this  region,  live  the  birds  of  the  tropi- 
cal forest ;  and  on  a  still  higher  aerial  plane, 
also  invisible,  float  the  raptorial  birds  which 
prey  upon  them."223 

Quite  as  mysterious  as  some  of  the  habits  of 
birds,  and  far  more  startling,  are  the  sounds 


HIS  ODDjWAYS  237 

they  are  capable  of  producing.  Among  the 
oddest  of  the  notes  of  our  familiar  birds  is 
the  song  —  if  one  may  so  call  the  grotesque 
medley  —  of  the  yellow-breasted  chat.  It  is 
utterly  unlike  bird-song,  a  jumble  of  whis- 
tling, barking,  cackling,  and  mewing  sounds 
impossible  to  describe,  uttered  in  a  loud  and 
quite  uncanny  voice,  while  the  performer  is 
closely  hidden  in  the  bushes.  Seldom,  indeed, 
does  he  come  into  sight  during  these  eccen- 
tric performances. 

In  all  my  study  of  the  chat  —  and  he  is 
such  a  puzzle  that  I  have  always  given  my 
whole  attention  to  him  whenever  I  have  found 
him  —  in  all  my  study  I  never  but  once  saw 
him  during  his  exhibition,  and  then  the  sight 
was  quite  unintentional  on  his  part.  He  chose 
the  lower  branches  of  a  dense  hedge  border- 
ing a  street,  and  in  the  house  behind  him, 
with  the  blinds  closed  but  the  slats  slightly 
opened,  at  the  window  where  I  sat,  I  could 
see  him  perfectly.  Keeping  always  to  the  low- 
est bare  branches  of  the  hedge,  hidden  from 
the  street  by  a  close  fence,  and  unsuspicious 
of  the  spectator  behind  the  blind,  the  bird 
poured  out  his  repertoire  of  uncanny  sounds 


238  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

with  perfect  abandon,  while  I  almost  held  my 
breath,  not  daring  to  move  lest  his  abnor- 
mally sharp  ears  should  hear,  and  put  an  end 
to  the  rare  treat. 

Another  odd  utterance  is  that  of  the  fa- 
mous bell-bird  of  South  America.  He  is  a 
white  bird  about  the  size  of  a  jay  and  curi- 
ously decorated  with  a  jet-black,  spiral  tube 
on  the  forehead.  When  filled  with  air,  this 
tube  stands  straight  up,  but  generally  it  hangs 
limp  like  a  rag.  His  song  is  said  to  be  simply 
a  repetition  of  one  clear  note,  and  when 
uttered  slowly,  as  he  is  fond  of  doing,  it 
greatly  resembles  the  toll  of  a  bell. 

Among  unbirdlike  sounds  may  surely  be 
put  the  policeman's  rattle  of  the  kingfisher 
and  the  Castanet  performance  of  the  clapper 
rail,  as  well  as  the  rasping  wheel-creaking  of 
the  American  crossbill.  Doubtless  what  we 
irreverently  call  the  pumping  of  the  bittern 
passes  in  the  society  of  marsh  land  as  song, — 
a  strange  gulping  or  retching  sound,  which 
has  been  described  as  a  sort  of  "pump-er-lunk" 
repeated  several  times  in  quick  succession.  At 
some  distance  only  one  of  the  notes  is  heard, 
when  the  bird  becomes  the  "  stake-driver." 


HIS  ODD  WAYS  239 

Several  birds  besides  our  own  well-known 
mockingbird  seek  their  inspiration  in  the  notes 
of  their  neighbors.  "  The  paradise  bird/'  says 
Alix  as  quoted  by  Groos,  "  has  .  .  .  excellent 
imitative  powers.  .  .  .  There  is  no  sound  that 
it  cannot  imitate,"  —  crows  and  barks  and 
mews,  bleats,  howls,  croaks,  as  well  as  songs 
of  other  birds.224 

The  young  herring  gull  of  our  Atlantic 
coast  has  a  querulous  cry  like  a  puppy  in  dis- 
tress. The  first  time  I  heard  it  was  on  the 
rocky  coast  of  Maine.  I  was  sure  some  small 
dog  had  got  into  trouble  among  the  rocks, 
and  hurried  down  to  the  shore  to  see,  and 
there  found  a  squad  of  gull  babies  apparently 
on  their  first  outing,  with  the  parents  hovering 
over  and  feeding  them.  Professor  Lucas  says 
the  gull  is  ever  complaining  about  something. 

Many  of  the  odd  sounds  made  by  birds  are 
dismal  to  hear,  sounding  like  cries  of  distress. 
Such  are  those  of  a  bird  called  "  crazy  widow," 
of  whom  Hudson  tells.  This  bird  is  found 
in  the  deserts  of  South  America.  It  utters  a 
long,  melancholy  scream,  heard  on  still  even- 
ings a  league  away. m  And  there  is  an  African 
bird,  the  wood  ibis,  whose  cry  is  like  that  of  a 


240  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

child  under  torture,  —  long-drawn,  moaning 
cries  alternated  with  sudden  shrieks.226 

Most  celebrated  among  our  own  birds  is 
the  cry  of  that  queer  fellow  mortal,  the  loon, 
which  is  said  to  strike  terror  into  the  heart  of 
a  stranger,  resembling  as  it  does  a  woman's 
cries  of  agony  and  despair.  This  is  equaled 
by  a  bird  of  Patagonia  the  size  of  a  thrasher, 
who  has  a  cry  like  a  burst  of  insane  laughter.  ^ 

Waterton  adds  his  contribution  to  the  list 
of  strange  bird  sounds.  The  bird  is  a  goat- 
sucker of  Demarara,  whose  voice  is  so  remark- 
able as  never  to  be  forgotten.  The  startled 
listener  who  hears  it  for  the  first  time  might 
believe  it  to  be  "the  departing  voice  of  a 
midnight-murdered  victim."  It  is  a  hopeless 
wail,  beginning  in  a  loud  "ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!" 
each  note  lower  and  the  last  scarcely  heard.228 

Even  the  love-notes  of  one  bird,  a  shear- 
water, are  described  as  "moans  and  sobs  in 
soft,  low  tones,  inexpressibly  sad  and  weird."  ^ 

When  these  unpleasant  sounds  are  uttered 
in  chorus,  they  become  truly  terrific,  such  as  in 
the  case  of  a  rail  described  by  Mr.  Hudson  and 
mentioned  in  the  chapter  on  amusements. 
And  another  of  a  Mexican  bird  thus  noted  by 


HIS  ODD  WAYS  241 

a  late  writer:  "Then  a  fearful  voice  arose, 
apparently  coming  from  all  directions  at  once. 
Cacklings,  screechings,  wheedlings,  peals  of 
uncanny  laughter  !  The  screams  of  macaws 
dwindled  to  mere  whispers  beside  this  awful 
din.  .  .  .  One  prominent  factor  in  the  medley 
was  a  most  peculiar  subdued  humming  which, 
beginning  low,  gained  steadily  in  volume, 
until  it  ended  in  a  shrill  falsetto  shriek.  A 
more  terrifying  sound  can  hardly  exist.  The 
authors  of  all  this  uproar  soon  made  their 
appearance,  a  small  flock  of  dark,  fowl-like 
birds,  which  we  recognized  as  chachalacas. 
They  flew  from  tree  to  tree  or  ran  frantically 
round  and  round  in  circles  upon  the  ground, 
uttering  screams  and  the  strange,  humming 


cries."230 


Not  all  the  chorus-singing  of  birds  is  un- 
pleasant. Mr.  Hudson  tells  us  of  the  wonder- 
ful performance  of  the  crested  screamer  of 
South  America.  These  birds  —  "  chakars  " 
the  natives  call  them  —  assemble  in  immense 
flocks,  thousands  of  them  together  it  is  said, 
and,  strangely  enough,  they  prefer  the  night 
for  their  vocal  displays.  In  their  vicinity  they 
are  invariably  heard  at  intervals  all  night, 


242  THE   BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

—  "a  tremendous  evening  song  .  .  .  louder 
than  the  sea  thundering  on  a  rocky  coast/' 
says  Hudson.  These  birds  are  interesting  for 
another  peculiarity,  —  they  are  easily  tamed, 
take  kindly  to  the  poultry-yard,  and  are  es- 
pecially interested  in  the  young  of  the  party. 
Mr.  Hudson  tells  of  one  who,  to  his  great 
delight,  was  placed  in  charge  of  a  party  of 
chicks.  Nothing  could  be  more  droll  than 
this  big  fellow,  the  size  of  a  swan,  stalking 
solemnly  about,  looking  carefully  after  thirty 
or  forty  little  yellow  balls  running  after  him. 
He  was  as  faithful  as  any  old  hen.231 

Amid  all  these  bewildering  cries,  it  is  almost 
a  relief  to  know  that  one  bird  is  absolutely 
voiceless, — the  common  European  stork.232 

Nothing  in  bird-life  is  more  astonishing 
than  that  these  interesting  neighbors  of  ours 
can  eat  with  impunity  things  that  would  kill 
a  man.  Crows  readily  devour  the  berries  of 
poison  ivy  and  the  still  more  poisonous  swamp 
dogwood,  or  poison  sumac,  says  Mr.  Henshaw 
in  a  newspaper  article.  A  writer  in  Nature 
says  that  song  thrushes  and  other  birds  eat 
ripe  mezereon  berries  greedily,  and  Dr.  With- 
ering states  in  "British  Plants"  that  six 


HIS  ODD  WAYS  243 

berries  of  this  shrub  (Daphne  Mezereum) 
will  kill  a  wolf. 

It  is  curious  and  interesting  to  note  the 
various  ways  in  which  the  different  species  of 
birds  have  solved  the  ever-pressing  question 
of  food-supply.  There  are  about  as  many 
ways  of  food-getting  in  the  world  of  birds 
as  in  the  world  of  men,  and  when  we  come 
down  to  foundation  facts,  we  are  forced  to 
admit  that  the  principal  business  of  birds  and 
men  is  to  minister  to  the  demands  of  that 
exacting  and  never  satisfied  organ,  the  stom- 
ach. This  work  among  birds,  as  among  men, 
brings  out  the  intelligence  and  sharpens  the 
wits,  developing  the  utmost  that  is  in  them. 

One  way  of  securing  supplies,  among  birds 
at  least,  is  by  robbery.  This  is  a  favorite 
method  with  some  of  the  larger  and  more 
powerful  species,  those  warriors  on  wings. 
The  American  eagle  is  well  known  to  rob  the 
osprey  of  fish  he  has  brought  up  out  of  the 
sea.  The  jaeger,  says  Mrs.  Eckstorm,  is  "  the 
gull's  robber  cousin,"  "the  pirate  of  the  sea," 
and  is  said  never  to  get  a  mouthful  that  has 
not  first  been  swallowed  by  another  bird.  It  is 
his  custom  to  chase  a  tern  till  the  fish  it  has 


244  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

swallowed  is  thrown  up  and  dropped,  when  he 
often  catches  it  before  it  touches  the  water.233 
These  feathered  robbers,  as  I  have  said,  are 
usually  the  large  sea-birds,  but  the  practice 
of  stealing  the  result  of  others'  work  is  not 
confined  to  them,  I  regret  to  say.  The  Eng- 
lish sparrow  has  of  late  become  quite  expert 
in  the  practice.  I  have  seen  a  party  of  them 
learning  the  trick  with  a  trio  of  young  car- 
dinal grosbeaks  who  were  being  fed  by  their 
parents  on  some  shelled  corn  I  had  put  out 
for  them.  The  sparrows  had  discovered  that 
corn  was  good  by  following  the  old  birds 
about  and  snatching  the  bits  which  dropped 
from  their  beaks  as  they  manipulated  the 
rather  awkward  material.  Finding  this  agree- 
able to  the  taste,  the  sparrows  turned  their  at- 
tention to  the  youngsters,  who  were,  of  course, 
more  easy  victims.  The  parents  would  remove 
with  some  labor  the  shell  of  a  kernel,  and 
then  feed  it  to  the  young  and  turn  away. 
The  foreigner  watched  the  proceedings  with 
interest,  and  the  moment  the  elder  cardinal 
had  gone,  snatched  the  morsel  from  the 
young  bird's  mouth.  This  they  did  so  often 
that  they  became  quite  expert  at  it. 


HIS  ODD  WAYS  245 

Later  they  turned  their  attention  upon  the 
robin,  whose  food  of  earthworms  seemed  even 
more  attractive  to  them.  I  have  many  times 
seen  a  robber  sparrow  follow  a  robin  about 
on  the  lawn,  and  when  he  drew  a  promising- 
looking  earthworm  from  the  sod,  spring  for- 
ward, snatch  it,  and  fly  away.  The  robin,  un- 
used to  this  highway  robbery,  usually  looked 
dazed,  as  if  he  did  not  know  what  had  hap- 
pened; but  he  is  a  bird  of  intelligence,  and 
I  have  faith  to  believe  he  will  in  time  learn  to 
protect  himself  and  punish  the  thief. 

One  of  the  ducks  has  learned  a  convenient 
trick  for  getting  his  dinner.  Some  of  the 
diving  brotherhood  who  feed  under  water  stir 
up  a  great  deal  that  floats,  and  the  shoveler, 
preferring  to  take  his  provision  from  the  sur- 
face, follows  his  diving  neighbor  to  the  feed- 
ing-place, and  while  the  feeders  below  stir  up 
the  inhabitants,  he  swims  around  on  the  sur- 
face and  catches  whatever  floats.234 

For  the  oddest  selection  of  food  to  fill  the 
stomach  the  ostrich  bears  the  palm.  It  is  said 
that  there  is  nothing  small  enough  to  be  swal- 
lowed that  he  will  not  send  down  that  long 
throat,  from  small  and  sometimes  living  ani- 


246  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

mals  to  all  vegetables  and  fruits,  stones  of 
a  pound  weight,  tiles,  rags,  glass  and  crock- 
ery, knives,  bunches  of  keys,  nails,  and  balls. 
In  one  who  died  in  captivity,  nine  pounds  of 
such  stuff  were  found.235 

It  is  interesting,  according  to  Captain  In- 
graham,  to  see  a  flock  of  flamingoes  feed, 
especially  where  the  ground  is  a  little  hard, 
so  that  they  are  obliged  to  dig.  They  feed 
in  the  edge  of  water,  which  prevents  their 
scratching  like  fowls,  but  they  go  through 
the  same  motions,  only  more  slowly  than 
fowls,  "and  as  their  long  legs  go  up  and 
down  it  reminds  one  of  a  regiment  of  sol- 
diers marking  time."  When  the  food  is  dis- 
lodged they  put  their  bills  down,  head  upside 
down,  like  standing  on  the  head.236 

The  curious  habit  of  the  shrike  of  impaling 
his  dead  prey  on  thorns  has  created  a  great 
deal  of  talk,  and  the  bird  is  universally  under 
the  ban  for  that  reason,  though  why  sticking 
a  dead  beetle  or  field  mouse,  or  even  another 
bird,  on  a  thorn  is  worse  than  eating  it  at 
once  I  fail  to  see.  It  seems  to  be  a  distinction 
without  a  difference. 

Moreover,  the  habit  has  been  much  exag- 


HIS   ODD  WAYS  247 

gerated  by  sensational  writers,  each  of  whom 
wishes  to  say  something  a  little  more  extraor- 
dinary than  the  preceding  writer,  from  whom 
in  most  cases  he  gets  his  "  facts."  Conscien- 
tious bird-students  who  have  tried  to  verify 
the  statements  of  these  writers  have  found  no 
such  state  of  things  as  described.  Mr.  Row- 
land E.  Robinson  of  Ferrisburg,  Vermont, 
writes  that  he  watched  for  twenty  years  to 
see  some  of  the  wonderful  things  told  about 
this  bird,  and  in  all  that  time  saw  only  three 
cases  of  impalement,  —  one  a  field  mouse,  and 
two  English  sparrows  on  the  spikes  of  a  haw- 
thorn bush.237 

To  this  testimony  I  will  add  my  own. 
Whenever  I  have  been  able  to  study  a  shrike, 
I  have  done  so  with  the  greatest  interest; 
especially  have  I  always  sought  to  find  the 
larder  he  is  reported  to  keep  so  well  supplied. 
I  have  seen  the  birds  in  the  West  weeks  at  a 
time  diligently  hunting  the  larger  insects  in 
the  grass,  and  in  the  East  I  have  seen  them 
foraging  among  growing  plants  in  a  garden 
and  catching  field  mice  in  a  meadow,  and  in 
all  my  exhaustive  searching  I  never,  so  far  as 
I  can  now  recall,  found  one  thing  impaled. 


248  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

A  favorite  morsel  for  the  English  shrike  is 
a  hideous  beetle  called  "  the  devil' s-coach- 
horse."  For  this  creature  the  shrike  hunts, 
and  for  killing  the  repulsive  object  the  shrike 
is  highly  respected  by  the  rustics.238 

Moreover,  the  shrike  does  not  torture  his 
prey.  Mrs.  Eckstorm  says  that  he  kills  his 
victims  "  speedily  by  pecks  on  the  head,  or 
by  throttling  them ;  he  does  not  hang  them 
up  alive ;  and  though  he  kills  more  than  he 
needs,  he  does  not  seem  to  do  it  wantonly, 
but  tidily  hangs  up  the  carcass  where  he  can 
find  it  some  day  when  he  needs  food."  ^ 

A  book  might  easily  be  filled  with  facts 
bearing  on  the  universal  habit  of  eating,  but 
I  will  speak  of  but  one  more  strange  custom 
connected  with  feeding  the  young. 

The  method  of  some  of  our  birds,  notably 
the  hummingbird  and  the  flicker,  of  thrusting 
the  long  beak  down  the  throat  of  the  nest- 
ling, till  the  observer  looks  on  with  horror,  is 
well  known ;  but  a  late  writer,  a  student  of 
birds,  describes  a  still  more  extraordinary  way 
of  administering  the  staff  of  life  to  a  tender 
youngling.  Says  this  writer :  "  [The  mother 
pelican]  waddled  about  till  one  of  the  young- 


HIS   ODD   WAYS  249 

sters  began  a  series  of  actions  that  were  very 
interesting.  He  fell  on  the  ground  before  the 
old  bird,  grunting  and  flapping  his  wings  as 
if  he  were  in  the  last  stages  of  starvation. 
Still  the  mother  did  not  heed  his  entreaties, 
and  the  youngster  suddenly  got  well  and  be- 
gan pecking  at  her  bill  again.  The  old  bird 
backed  up  as  if  she  were  getting  a  good  foot- 
ing, and  slowly  opened  her  mouth  to  admit 
the  bill  of  the  little  pelican.  .  .  .  Jonah-like, 
down  the  mother's  throat  went  the  head  and 
neck  of  the  child  till  he  seemed  about  to  be 
swallowed  had  it  not  been  for  his  fluttering 
wings.  He  remained  buried  in  the  depths  for 
about  two  minutes.  .  .  .  Nor  did  he  with- 
draw voluntarily,  but  when  the  supply  was 
exhausted  or  the  mother  thought  he  had 
enough,  she  began  slowly  to  rise  and  struggle 
to  regain  her  upright  position.  The  young- 
ster was  loath  to  come  out,  and,  flapping  his 
wings,  he  tried  in  every  way  to  hold  on  as 
she  began  shaking  back  and  forth.  The 
mother  shook  around  over  ten  or  twelve  feet 
of  ground,  till  she  literally  swung  the  young 
bird  off  his  feet  and  sent  him  sprawling."  24° 


XII 

HIS  EQUIPMENT 


The  habit  of  observation  needs  cultivating.  .  .  .  Es- 
pecially in  a  naturalist  is  power  of  observation  wanted. 
The  older  writers  put  down  much  that  has  little  foun- 
dation,  .  .  .  and  some  of  these  old  stories  are  still 
repeated  and  believed,  while  the  real  wonders  of  Nature 
.  .  .  often  remain  unnoticed.  —  F.  W.  HEADLEY,  Struc- 
ture and  Life  of  Birds. 

Every  fact  in  Natural  History,  if  carefully  observed 
and  correctly  interpreted,  is  interesting  even  if  not  im- 
portant; and  when  the  fact  in  any  way  illustrates  the 
natural  attributes  of  what  man,  the  proud  lord  of  crea- 
tion, is  wont  to  designate  a  lower  animal,  it  is  even 
not  unworthy  the  attention  of  the  philosopher.  —  DR. 
GEORGE  HARLEY. 


XII 

HIS  EQUIPMENT 

WHEN  we  begin  to  consider  the  construction 
and  the  powers  of  the  feathered  creation,  even 
although  we  do  not  attempt  a  study,  it  is  hard 
to  decide  of  what  to  speak  first,  so  many  of 
the  birds'  powers  transcend  ours,  so  remark- 
ably are  they  fitted  for  their  extraordinary 
life  in  the  air  and  no  less  in  the  water,  ele- 
ments of  which  our  own  control  is  so  limited. 

We  shall  not  here  attempt  a  study,  nor 
even  an  exhaustive  synopsis  of  the  studies  of 
others,  but  simply  call  attention  to  a  few  of 
the  more  obvious  powers  of  our  marvelous 
neighbors  that  any  one  may  observe,  in  the 
hope  of  arousing  interest  and  stimulating 
more  serious  study  of  the  subject. 

Consider  for  a  moment  the  eye  of  the  bird. 
This  is  a  telescope  and  microscope  in  one, 
which  adjusts  itself  automatically  and  almost 
instantaneously.  A  bird  soaring  high  in  the 
air,  at  a  distance  where  the  human  eye  could 
distinguish  only  the  largest  objects,  is  able  to 


254  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

see  the  movements  of  a  mouse  on  the  ground, 
and  no  one  can  doubt  his  sharpness  of  vision 
as  he  darts  upon  his  prey. 

"A  gannet,  flying  one  hundred  feet  or 
more  above  the  sea/'  says  Mr.  Headley,  "  will 
distinguish  a  fish  near  the  surface  from  the 
water  which  it  so  nearly  resembles,  and  pounce 
upon  it."  He  says,  too,  that  gulls  that  follow 
a  steamer  will  pounce  unerringly  upon  small 
bits  of  biscuit  wholly  invisible  to  a  human  eye 
in  the  foam  which  follows  the  ship.241 

"  The  barred  owls,"  says  Bolles,  "  exhibit 
the  most  marvelous  powers  of  sight,  and  their 
eyes  may  well  be  called  telescopic.  In  dozens 
of  instances  Puffy  has  seen,  and  by  his  fixed 
watching  of  the  sky  has  called  my  attention 
to  hawks  flying  at  so  great  a  height  that  they 
were  well-nigh  beyond  man's  vision.  More 
than  this,  he  has  on  two  or  three  occasions  seen 
a  hawk  approaching  in  the  upper  air  when 
my  eyes,  aided  by  a  fairly  strong  glass,  failed 
to  see  the  bird  until  it  drew  nearer  and  grew 
large  enough  for  me  to  detect  it  as  a  mere 
dot  in  the  field  of  the  lens."  m 

"  The  power  of  sight  exhibited  by  the  red- 
headed woodpecker,"  says  Maurice  Thomp- 


HIS  EQUIPMENT  255 

son,  {f  is  quite  amazing.  I  have  seen  the  bird, 
in  the  early  twilight  of  a  summer  evening, 
start  from  the  highest  spire  of  a  very  tall  tree 
and  fly  a  hundred  yards  straight  to  an  insect 
near  the  ground."  243 

An  interesting  story  is  told  by  Gatke  of 
a  flock  of  birds  which,  when  passing  over  his 
island,  suddenly  dropped  down  upon  certain 
plants  growing  there,  and  fell  to  picking  in- 
dustriously among  the  leaves.  Knowing  that 
leaves  were  not  their  usual  diet,  he  made  an 
examination  and  found  many  of  the  leaves 
slightly  curled,  and  under  each  curl  was  a 
small  caterpillar  which  the  birds  were  eating. 
They  must  have  seen  and  recognized  the  mi- 
nute disfigurement  of  the  leaves  as  they  were 
flying  over.24* 

All  students  of  the  living  bird  know  how 
closely  birds  watch  their  eyes.  A  person  ap- 
proaching a  bird  looking  a  little  to  one  side 
of  him  is  able  to  get  much  nearer  than  if  he 
looked  directly  at  him.  One  will  often  retain 
his  position  while  the  student  passes  very 
near,  if  he  steadily  looks  past  him,  but  the 
instant  he  turns  his  eyes  upon  him  the  bird 
is  flown.  Many  times,  too,  the  observer  will 


256  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

see  birds  carrying  on  their  ordinary  busi- 
ness of  building  or  feeding,  of  love-making 
or  singing,  with  perfect  indifference  to  the 
neighborhood  of  people  engaged  in  their 
own  affairs,  talking  or  working  or  moving 
about,  even  sometimes  coming  within  a  few 
feet  of  them,  so  long  as  the  people  are  ab- 
sorbed in  their  own  concerns.  But  let  one 
turn  for  a  moment  his  eye  upon  his  feathered 
neighbors,  and  instantly,  as  if  by  magic,  the 
drama  ends  and  the  actors  are  gone.  How 
close  must  have  been  the  observation  of  the 
birds,  under  their  apparent  indifference,  to 
detect  the  first  sign  of  attention  to  their 
movements ! 

No  less  remarkable  than  the  sight  is  the 
hearing  of  birds.  It  is  supposed  that  wood- 
peckers locate  their  prey  under  the  bark  and 
even  in  the  wood  of  a  tree  trunk  by  hearing 
it  move,  and  that  birds  who  probe  the  mud 
or  soft  earth  have  the  same  power.  We  have 
all  seen  the  robin  on  the  lawn  apparently  find 
his  worm  by  listening  intently  for  its  move- 
ments; and  Bendire  says  that  while  a  red- 
breasted  sapsucker  was  digging  away  inside 
the  trunk  of  a  tree  she  would  hear  him  ap- 


HIS  EQUIPMENT  257 

proach,  however  silently,  to  his  own  hearing, 
he  crept  up  towards  the  tree.  Before  he  got 
within  thirty  yards  of  it  she  would  stop  work- 
ing and  thrust  her  head  out  to  watch.  If  he 
kept  motionless,  she  would  soon  go  hack  to 
her  work,  but  the  least  movement  brought 
her  out  again.245 

Many  instances  of  this  extraordinary  faculty 
could  be  given,  especially  among  the  owls, 
who,  indeed,  it  is  said,  are  endowed  with  the 
further  ability  of  closing  the  ears  against 
unwelcome  sounds,  a  faculty  we  dwellers  in 
cities  would  be  glad  to  share. 

Again,  what  is  more  wonderful  in  its  con- 
struction and  varied  uses  than  the  beak — the 
bird's  hand  —  horny  and  stiff  and  constantly 
renewed  like  our  finger-nails,  and  yet,  at 
least  in  many  cases,  sensitive  to  the  touch. 
With  the  beak  the  bird  selects  and  manipu- 
lates his  food,  shelling  his  seed  or  cutting 
and  preparing  his  meat ;  with  it  alone  he  also 
does  the  heavier  work  that  is  demanded  of 
him,  digging  a  home  in  the  earth  or  chiseling 
it  out  of  wood,  weaving  it  of  grass  stems  or 
fibres,  moulding  it  of  mud,  building  it  of 
sticks,  or  sewing  it  to  a  leaf.  With  this  most 


258  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

versatile  tool  he  performs  his  careful  toilet, 
dressing  and  arranging  his  beautiful  plumage 
and  turning  it  into  an  offensive  weapon  against 
an  enemy  at  a  moment's  notice,  —  a  pick,  a 
dagger,  a  brush  and  comb,  a  needle,  a  hand, 
a  tooth,  and  a  hammer,  all  in  one. 

The  wing  of  the  bird  is  the  most  wonderful 
instrument  on  record,  and  man  has  been  try- 
ing to  imitate  it  these  hundreds  of  years.  The 
bird's  power  of  soaring  about  in  the  air,  with- 
out movement  of  wing  or  feather  that  can  be 
discovered  by  man,  even  aided  by  the  all- 
disclosing  camera,  is  marvelous  beyond  words. 
Mr.  Palmer,  in  his  work  on  the  Pribilof  Isl- 
ands, tells  of  a  study  he  made  of  the  soaring 
of  gulls.  He  disturbed  some  who  were  taking 
their  noonday  siesta,  and,  sitting  down  on 
the  edge  of  a  cliff,  watched  them  sailing  around 
in  great  circles,  coming  very  near  him  on  every 
round  and  watching  him  closely.  A  bird  would 
move  round  these  circles  without  stirring  a 
feather,  so  far  as  he  could  discover,  although 
there  was  no  wind  that  he  could  feel.  The 
length  of  their  flight  was  fully  fifty  yards, 
and  one  would  pass  back  and  forth  several 
times  without  the  flap  of  a  wing.  One  bird 


HIS  EQUIPMENT  259 

that  he  timed  made  the  circuit  seven  times 
without  moving  his  wings.246 

Mr.  Selous  speaks  of  the  wonderful  flight 
of  the  fulmar  petrel.  "In  [his  flight]  there 
is  conveyed  to  one  a  sense,  not  so  much  of 
power  over  as  of  actual  partnership  in  the 
element  in  which  the  bird  floats,  as  though  it 
had  been  born  there,  as  though  it  might  sleep 
and  awake  there,  as  though  it  had  never  been, 
nor  ever  could  be,  anywhere  else.  .  .  .  The 
thin,  cleaver-like  wings  are  .  .  .  spread  to  their 
full  extent,  and  on  them  the  bird  floats,  sweeps, 
circles,  now  sinking  towards  the  sea,  now 
cresting  the  summit  of  the  cliff,  .  .  .  won- 
derful down-sliding,  up-gliding  circles  that 
have  more  of  magic  in  them,  and  are  more 
drawn  to  charm,  than  had  ever  a  necro- 


mancer's." *7 


Mr.  Hudson  tells  of  the  soaring  of  the 
chakar  of  South  America,  who  seems  to  soar 
because  he  enjoys  it,  as  indeed  is  the  case 
with  all  birds.  The  chakar  rises  from  the 
earth  with  difficulty,  but  his  efforts  grow  less 
as  he  goes  up,  till,  when  he  can  hardly  be 
seen,  he  floats  with  ease,  singing  with  evident 
delight.  He  spends  a  great  part  of  pleasant 
days  in  this  way.248 


260  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

Nor  is  this  all,  nor  even  the  most  ex- 
traordinary. There  is  the  well-known  habit, 
common  in  the  larger  birds,  of  remaining 
motionless  in  one  spot  with  wings  wide-spread, 
looking  as  if  glued  to  the  sky.  Many  observ- 
ers must  have  seen  some  of  our  large  hawks 
in  this  position,  apparently  painted  on  the 
blue,  almost  transparent  against  the  sky, — 
an  exquisite  picture.  This  is  something  the 
wise  men  have  not  been  able  to  solve,  hardly 
even  to  form  a  theory  upon,  while  that  sharp 
little  detective,  the  camera  itself,  fails  to  pene- 
trate the  secret. 

Nothing  in  the  equipment  of  our  little 
brothers  is  more  wonderful  than  their  lung 
power,  and  the  heights  which  they  reach,  not 
only  breathing,  but  exercising  violently.  It 
is  said  that  men,  when  perfectly  still,  can 
hardly  support  life  at  a  height  of  26,000 
feet,  while  birds  live  and  fly  vigorously  at 
30,000  or  40,000  feet.249  Humboldt  asserts 
that  the  condor  flies  higher  than  Chimborazo, 
21,420  feet,  and  Mr.  Orton  describes  seeing 
numbers  of  them  hovering  at  least  a  thou- 
sand feet  above  the  summit  of  Pichincha, 
which  is  nearly  16,000  feet  high,  and  says 


HIS   EQUIPMENT  261 

that  Dr.  Hooker  found  crows  and  ravens  on 
the  Himalayas,  16,500  feet  high,  and  that 
flocks  of  geese  are  said  to  fly  over  the  peak 
of  Kintschinghow,  22,756  feet  high.250 

The  speed  at  which  birds  are  known  to 
fly  is  another  extraordinary  thing.  The  above 
facts,  fully  proved,  show  that  they  are  pos- 
sessed of  an  astonishing  breathing  apparatus, 
but  statements  of  their  speed  quite  too  mar- 
velous for  belief  have  been  made  by  appar- 
ently reputable  authorities,  though  more  and 
fuller  verification  is  necessary. 

In  one  respect  the  bird's  breathing  arrange- 
ment rivals  that  of  the  Oriental  wonder-worker 
who,  it  is  said,  can  breathe  through  his  ears. 
Birds  have  been  known,  when  the  windpipe 
was  unavailable  for  the  purpose,  to  breathe 
through  the  open  end  of  a  broken  bone.251 

The  plumage  of  birds  is  the  most  wonder- 
ful dress  Nature  bestows  upon  any  of  her 
creatures,  so  light,  so  warm,  so  adapted  to 
all  their  movements  and  their  needs,  so  mar- 
velously  varied,  and  withal  so  beautiful. 

To  the  careless  thought  a  feather  seems  a 
simple  thing,  but  in  fact  there  is  almost  an 
infinite  variety  of  feathers,  even  many  sorts 


262  THE   BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

on  one  bird.  Feathers  suitable  to  beat  the 
air  and  carry  their  possessor  far  away  in  a 
moment,  differ  in  almost  every  way  from  the 
soft  downy  ones  that  cover  his  body  like  a 
suit  of  underclothing  and  protect  him  from 
cold  and  wet,  and  still  more  perhaps  from  the 
outside  dress,  the  show  feathers  one  might 
call  them.  Some  of  them  are  filmy  plumes, 
light  and  airy  as  a  breath,  others  short  and 
stiff  and  business-like  for  service ;  these  long 
and  soft  and  fluffy  for  ornament,  those  hairy 
or  bristly;  most  singular  of  all,  the  "pow- 
der down"  feathers,  which  grow  in  greasy 
patches  on  the  heron  and  constantly  break 
off  in  powder-like  bits. 

Nothing,  as  Mr.  Arthur  Nicols  remarks, 
can  exceed  the  compactness,  lightness,  and 
strength  of  plumage  clothing.  It  is  a  per- 
fect non-conductor,  retaining  the  heat  of  the 
body  and  so  enabling  its  possessor  to  endure 
life  at  the  poles,  and  equally  protecting  him 
from  the  rays  of  the  tropical  sun  and  so 
fitting  him  for  life  in  the  hottest  parts  of  the 
earth.  This  is  why  birds  can  endure  great 
extremes  of  temperature.252 

Even  in  the  great  variety  of  feather  dress 


HIS  EQUIPMENT  263 

and  decoration  which  we  meet  with  every- 
where in  the  hird  world,  there  are  some  ar- 
rangements so  very  peculiar  that  they  might 
almost  be  called  freaks  :  as,  for  instance, 
that  of  the  great  condor  of  serious  business 
habits,  who  wears  fluffy  white  frills  around 
the  neck,  appearing  very  droll  on  him,  and 
suitable,  one  would  think,  only  to  a  more 
frivolous  and  purely  ornamental  branch  of 
the  bird  family. 

So  much  has  been  written  about  the  plum- 
age shows  of  foreign  birds  that  we  over- 
look the  fact  —  even  if  we  happen  to  be 
familiar  with  it  —  that  we  of  the  Western 
Hemisphere  have  at  least  one  family  which 
can  compete  with  the  world  for  wonder  and 
variety  of  feather  decoration.  These  are  the 
hummingbirds,  with  their  fantastic  frills  and 
fans,  their  crests,  gorgets,  and  eccentric  feath- 
ers of  many  kinds,  exceeding  in  variety  the 
birds-of-paradise  themselves,  and  in  colors 
that  rival  gems.  They  have  not  the  big  show- 
iness  of  the  peacock  or  the  argus  pheasant, 
but  are  far  more  attractive  and  bewildering 
in  their  exquisite  proportions  and  dainty  or- 
naments. In  the  plumage  of  hummingbirds, 


264  THE   BIRD   OUR   BROTHER 

says  Hudson,  "  Nature  has  strained  at  every 
variety  of  effect  and  revelled  in  an  infinitude 
of  modifications."  "  How  wonderful  their  garb 
is,"  the  same  writer  goes  on,  "  with  colours  so 
varied,  so  intense,  yet  seemingly  so  evanes- 
cent !  —  the  glittering  mantle  of  powdered 
gold ;  the  emerald  green  that  changes  to  vel- 
vet black ;  ruby  reds  and  luminous  scarlets ; 
dull  bronze  that  brightens  and  burns  like  pol- 
ished brass,  and  pale  neutral  tints  that  kindle 
to  rose  and  lilac-coloured  flame.  And  to  the 
glory  of  prismatic  colouring  are  added  feather 
decorations,  such  as  the  racket  plumes  and 
downy  muffs  of  Spathura,  the  crest  and  frills 
of  Lophornis,  the  sapphire  gorget  burning 
on  the  snow-white  breast  of  Oreotrochilus, 
the  fiery  tail  of  Cometes,  and,  amongst  gro- 
tesque forms,  the  long  pointed  crest  feathers, 
representing  horns,  and  flowing  white  beard 
adorning  the  piebald  goat-like  face  of  Oxy- 
pogon."253 

Then  there  are  the  birds  who  "  must  suffer 
to  be  beautiful,"  in  whom  even  comfort  seems 
to  be  sacrificed  to  show,  such  as  the  peacock, 
who  must  forever  drag  an  unwieldy  tail  about 
with  him ;  the  well-known  argus  pheasant, 


HIS  EQUIPMENT  265 

who  can  spread  an  amazing  show  of  gorgeous 
plumage,  but  who  finds  flying  difficult,  some- 
times almost  impossible;  and  the  lyre-bird, 
embarrassed  in  movements  by  his  fantastically 
beautiful  tail ;  and  most  of  all,  the  birds-of- 
paradise. 

These  celebrated  birds  —  might  one  call 
them  the  "professional  beauties"? — are  not 
only  hampered  in  their  ordinary  movements, 
but  their  adornments  really  imperil  their  lives 
in  a  strong  wind,  and  especially  in  a  heavy 
rain.  When  a  bird-of -paradise  gets  wet  it  is 
said  that  he  sometimes  becomes  perfectly 
helpless,  the  plumes  of  wing  and  tail  get 
entangled,  and  the  bird  falls  to  the  ground, 
sometimes  into  the  water,  where  he  drowns. 

It  is,  however,  interesting  to  see  the  bird's 
appreciation  and  delight  in  his  own  beauty. 
Nothing  could  be  more  "human"  than  the 
dainty  care  one  of  these  highly  decorated 
birds-of -paradise  will  take  to  preserve  the  per- 
fection of  his  attire.  In  a  cage  where  he  has 
been  observed  he  will  not  go  to  the  floor  for 
the  most  desired  dainty.  He  bathes  twice  daily 
and  dresses  his  plumage  with  untiring  pains. 

Birds  with  less  pretentious  decorations  often 


266  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

show  careful  concern  for  the  attractions  they 
possess.  The  magpie  of  the  West  is  plainly 
proud  of  his  fine  long  tail,  keeps  it  in  beau- 
tiful order,  and  holds  it  up  from  the  ground 
most  carefully.  The  same  is  true  of  the 
mockingbird,  common  in  our  Southern  and 
far  Western  states.  Some  birds  with  brilliant 
white  breasts  are  ludicrously  particular  to  pre- 
serve their  immaculate  whiteness,  not  only 
preening  and  carefully  removing  every  speck, 
but  leaning  over  and  contemplating  them  with 
apparent  satisfaction.  I  once  had  a  bird  who 
evidently  fretted  himself  to  death  because  a 
white  feather  persisted  in  intruding  itself  into 
his  fine  tail  while  moulting.  He  worked  and 
tugged  at  the  offensive  feather  till  he  was 
worn  out  and  at  last  died. 

A  number  of  birds  confine  their  peculiari- 
ties to  one  or  two  feathers.  A  famous  trogon 
of  Central  America,  a  gorgeous  creature  in 
golden  green  and  rose-color,  sports  two  or 
three  very  long,  exquisite  tail-feathers  which 
frequently  cost  him  his  life.  And  a  certain 
night-jar  of  Africa,  related  to  our  whip-poor- 
will,  has  a  wing-feather  on  each  side  developed 
into  a  sort  of  flagstaff,  being  a  bare  shaft  with 


HIS   EQUIPMENT  267 

a  feather  tip  at  the  end.254  When  he  lies  in 
the  long,  plumy  grass  and  elevates  his  two 
flags,  which  is  his  habit,  he  is  well  concealed. 

A  curious  plumage  eccentricity  is  a  shaggy 
head.  One  bird  in  Java,  rejoicing  in  the  name 
of  "plumed  frog,"  emulates  a  Skye  terrier, 
having  long  ragged  feathers  on  the  head  and 
hanging  down  over  the  eyes ;  and  another  of 
the  same  family  has  a  large  tuft  of  feathers 
projecting  horizontally  frpm  his  face,  a  gro- 
tesque decoration.255 

The  head  is  a  favorite  place  for  startling 
effects.  Besides  the  innumerable,  and  usually 
beautiful,  crests,  most  of  which  are  erected  or 
depressed  at  will  and  are  as  good  "  indication 
of  the  mind  "  as  the  old  Latin  reader  declares 
the  lion's  tail  to  be,  —  besides  these,  from 
the  dainty  ornament  of  the  peacock  to  the 
heavy  umbrella-shaped  one  of  the  umbrella 
bird,  there  are  some  curly-headed  birds.  One 
of  the  birds-of-paradise  has  a  full  set  of  curls, 
and  a  bird  of  another  family,  of  South  Amer- 
ica, has  a  crest  of  curls»that  look  as  if  treated 
with  curling-irons.256 

Ground-dwelling  birds  seem  to  be  particu- 
larly subject  to  eccentricities  of  plumage  as 


268  THE  BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

well  as  of  habit,  and  more  especially  of  skin 
decoration,  —  horns,  wattles,  expansible  air- 
sacs,  etc.  Also  they  are  the  most  fantastic  in 
their  courtship  antics,  and  make  the  greatest 
variety  of  sounds  of  any  one  class  of  birds. 

Besides  these  ornamentations  which  may  be 
classified,  there  are  a  thousand  oddities  which 
are  peculiar  to  one  species  alone :  the  red  wax 
tips  to  some  of  the  feathers  of  our  cedar  wax- 
wing,  which  are  sai$  to  appear  only  on  the 
adult,  but  which  I  have  found  about  the  size 
of  a  thread  on  a  nestling  whom  I  held  in  my 
hand.  Then  there  is  the  fine  drooping  or 
"  vaulting  "  tail  of  our  cock  of  the  poultry- 
yard  ;  the  changeable  dress  of  the  starling, 
which  varies  from  violet  when  flying  to  a 
bright  copper-color  when  at  rest  in  the  sun; 
and  that  of  some  of  our  blackbirds,  who  are 
blue  or  green  or  bronze  or  velvety  black 
according  as  the  light  strikes  them. 

This  branch  of  our  subject  —  the  wonder- 
ful equipment  of  the  feathered  world — is 
barely  touched  upon  here;  a  volume  might 
be  filled  with  it. 

A  mysterious  gift,  little  understood  by  man, 
but  possessed  by  birds  and  also  by  some  mam- 


HIS  EQUIPMENT  269 

mals  —  notably  the  dog  and  cat  —  is  that 
called  the  "  homing  instinct/'  the  faculty 
that  enables  its  possessor  to  find  its  way  home 
from  almost  any  distance  and  under  almost 
any  circumstances.  This  power  is  well  known 
in  the  case  of  carrier  pigeons,  and  of  late,  it  is 
said,  experiments  have  proved  that  it  is  shared 
by  swallows;  and  Professor  Shaler  of  the 
Lawrence  Scientific  School  at  Harvard  says 
that  the  common  fowls  have  a  topographic 
sense,  and  are  never  lost.257 

The  most  stupendous  mystery  in  bird-life, 
the  study  of  which  has  occupied  the  attention 
of  ornithologists  for  ages  and  which  is  still 
unsolved,  is  migration.  Says  Newton :  "  [Mi- 
gration is]  perhaps  the  greatest  mystery  which 
the  whole  animal  kingdom  presents  .  .  .  and 
can  in  its  chief  point  be  no  more  explained  by 
the  modern  man  of  science  than  by  the  simple- 
minded  savage  or  the  poet  or  prophet  of  antiq- 
uity. Some  facts  are  almost  universally  known 
and  have  been  the  theme  of  comment  in  all 
ages  and  in  all  lands.  .  .  .  The  flow  and  ebb 
of  the  feathered  tide  has  been  sung  by  poets 
and  discussed  by  philosophers,  has  given  rise 
to  proverbs  and  entered  into  popular  supersti- 


270  THE   BIRD   OUR   BROTHER 

tions,  and  yet  we  must  say  of  it  still  that  our 
'  ignorance  is  immense.'  "  ^ 

Some  of  the  points  of  interest  in  migration, 
besides  the  bare  fact  that  so  many  birds  change 
their  residence  twice  a  year,  are  these :  First, 
the  immense  distances  they  are  known  to 
travel,  in  many  cases,  it  is  supposed,  without 
resting ;  some  birds  nesting  in  the  Arctic  re- 
gions going  the  whole  length  of  South  Amer- 
ica to  Patagonia  for  the  winter,  and  passing 
over  climates  apparently  quite  as  suitable  for 
wintering.259  Second,  the  wonderful,  almost 
unbelievable,  height  at  which  they  fly,  and 
often  at  night,  when  at  other  times  they  sleep, 
and  seem  to  be  dazed  if  awakened.  And  third, 
the  astonishing  speed  they  are  supposed  to 
attain  in  their  flight.  Almost  everything  re- 
garding this  mysterious  subject  is  still  to  be 
discovered,  for  the  birds  in  their  habitual  mi- 
gration have  set  us  several  problems  as  yet 
but  partially  solved. 

These  points  and  others  which  do  not  come 
within  the  scope  of  this  work,  present  subjects 
of  the  greatest  interest  to  future  students  of 
bird-life. 

What  becomes  of  the  bodies  of  birds  after 


HIS  EQUIPMENT  271 

death  has  long  been  a  question.  Their  bodies 
are  seldom  found,  and  it  is  thought  that  this 
fact  is  not  adequately  accounted  for  by  the 
myriads  of  creatures  which  eat  and  otherwise 
dispose  of  such  things.  Mr.  Maurice  Thomp- 
son has  advanced  a  curious  and  original  the- 
ory in  his  book  "My  Winter  Garden."  He 
says :  "  I  have  studied  wild  birds  with  per- 
sistence ...  in  all  seasons  and  under  all 
conditions,  between  Canada  and  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico ;  but  I  never  yet  knew  of  one  that 
died  of  old  age,  never  killed  one  that,  when 
dissected,  appeared  in  the  least  affected  with 
senile  decay.  I  do  not  say  that  birds  never 
die  of  old  age,  —  domesticated  birds  certainly 
do.  ...  I  do  roundly  deny  the  existence  of 
any  evidence,  worth  serious  attention,  tend- 
ing to  prove  that  wild  birds,  in  their  natural 
habitat,  with  plenty  of  their  natural  food  to 
eat,  ever  die,  save  when  stricken  by  disease 
or  accident."  To  this  question  of  "bird  im- 
mortality," Mr.  Thompson  says  he  is  "  bound 
sometime  to  return  with  plenty  of  facts  to 
uphold  my  theory."  26°  It  is  greatly  to  be  re- 
gretted that  he  did  not  live  to  redeem  his 
promise. 


XIII 

HIS  USEFULNESS  TO  US 


The  ravages  of  birds  are  grossly  exaggerated.  —  W. 
WARDE  FOWLER,  A  Year  with  the  Birds. 

We  can  feed  our  cattle,  our  hogs,  a  vagabond  home- 
less cat,  a  stray  dog,  or  a  tramp ;  but  if  a  bird  claims 
any  of  our  bounty,  capital  punishment  is  not  too  severe 
for  it.  — EDWARD  HOWE  FORBUSH,  Useful  Birds  and 
their  Protection. 

While  we  regard  birds  as  enemies  they  naturally 
retaliate,  but  how  glad  they  would  be,  aye,  even  the 
fiercest  beasts,  to  become  friendly  with  man !  There  is 
none  among  them  untamable,  positively  not  one.  —  SIR 
EDWIN  ARNOLD,  in  the  Youth's  Companion. 

The  war  of  extermination  waged  on  game  birds  is 
a  blot  on  the  history  of  American  civilization.  It  is 
paralleled  only  by  the  destruction  of  birds  for  millinery 
purposes,  which  has  some  shockingly  cruel  aspects.  — 
EDWARD  HOWE  FORBUSH,  Useful  Birds  and  their 
Protection. 


XIII 

HIS  USEFULNESS  TO  US 

THE  subject  of  the  usefulness  of  the  bird  fam- 
ily to  the  human  family,  nay,  of  the  absolute 
necessity  of  its  services  to  our  life  on  the 
earth,  is  too  large  for  adequate  treatment  in 
this  book. 

Surely,  at  this  late  day,  with  the  hourly 
experience  of  any  one  attempting  to  cultivate 
so  much  as  a  rosebush  —  yes,  more,  of  any 
one  desiring  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  the  earth 
—  and  knowing  as  we  do  from  long  experi- 
ence that  the  bird  is  the  only  efficient  check 
upon  insects,  —  surely,  I  say,  nothing  need 
be  said  of  their  ravages  and  their  inconceiv- 
able multiplication.  Yet  a  few  facts  from  the 
recently  published  admirable  work  of  Mr.  For- 
bush  on  "Useful  Birds"  may  give  one  sub- 
ject for  thought. 

He  says,  "  When  we  fully  appreciate  the 
consuming  power  of  insects,  they  assume  an 
economic  importance  greater  than  can  be  ac- 
corded to  the  ravening  beast  of  prey."  mi 


276  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

"  The  number  of  insect  species,"  lie  goes 
on,  "  is  greater  by  far  than  that  of  the  species 
of  all  other  living  creatures  combined.  More 
than  three  hundred  thousand  have  been  de- 
scribed. There  are  many  thousands  of  un de- 
scribed species  in  museums.  Dr.  Lintner,  the 
late  distinguished  State  entomologist  of  New 
York,  considered  it  not  improbable  that  there 
were  a  million  species  of  insects."  M2  Dr.  Fitch, 
by  careful  investigation  of  the  aphides  on  a 
cherry  tree  ten  feet  high,  found  that  by  mod- 
erate estimate  there  were  twelve  million  plant- 
lice  on  that  tree.263 

"The  rapidity  of  propagation  shown  by 
some  insects  is  perhaps  without  a  parallel  in 
the  animal  world."264  The  Canadian  Ento- 
mologist states  that  all  the  transformations 
of  the  Colorado  potato  beetle  "  are  effected 
in  fifty  days ;  so  that  the  result  of  a  single 
pair,  if  allowed  to  increase  without  molesta- 
tion, would  in  one  season  amount  to  over 
sixty  millions." 265 

And  as  to  the  voracity  of  insects,  "  a  cer- 
tain flesh-eating  larva  will  consume  in  twenty- 
four  hours  two  hundred  times  its  original 
weight,"  as  if  in  human  life  an  infant  in  the 


HIS  USEFULNESS  TO  US  277 

first  day  of  its  life  should  consume  fifteen 
hundred  pounds  of  food.266 

A  word  as  to  the  financial  losses  from  in- 
sect ravages :  "  In  1854  the  loss  in  New 
York  state  alone  from  the  ravages  of  the  in- 
significant wheat  midge  (Diplosis  tritici\  as 
estimated  by  the  Secretary  of  the  New  York 
State  Agricultural  Society,  was  fifteen  million 
dollars."267 

Dr.  C.  L.  Marlatt  states  that  "  in  the  year 
1900  the  losses  in  the  wheat-growing  states 
from  [the  Hessian  fly]  undoubtedly  ap- 
proached one  hundred  million  dollars."268 

Professor  C.  V.  Kiley  in  1890  stated  that 
he  had  estimated  some  time  previous  to  that 
date,  "  that  the  injury  done  to  crops  in  the 
United  States  by  insects  exceeded  three  hun- 
dred million  dollars  annually." 269 

These  are  but  a  very  small  part  of  the  evi- 
dence produced  by  Mr.  Forbush  on  this  im- 
portant subject.  As  for  the  fitness  of  the  bird 
for  keeping  down  these  destructive  armies, 
the  one  prominent  fact  in-  the  equipment  of 
the  bird  for  his  work  is  the  enormous  amount 
of  foodshe  can  dispose  of  in  a  day.  No  other 
creature  known,  unless  it  be  the  insects  he 


278  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

feeds  on,  requires  such  a  prodigious  amount 
of  sustenance.  For  statements  and  statistics 
I  refer  my  readers  to  that  most  instructive 
and  valuable  work  from  which  I  have  taken 
the  foregoing  extracts. 

In  the  face  of  these  absolutely  appalling 
figures,  does  it  not  seem  a  crime  to  allow  the 
slaughter  of  our  most  useful  helpers,  which  is 
constantly  going  on  in  our  own  country,  from 
the  boy  with  his  sling  or  bow  and  arrows  to 
the  plume-hunter  and  the  pot-hunter? 

The  canny  little  country  Switzerland  is 
wiser.  According  to  Mr.  Fowler,  "no  bird 
may  now  be  killed  at  any  time  of  the  year, 
in  any  part  of  Switzerland,  without  either  a 
game  license,  of  which  the  cost  is  consider- 
able, or  permission  to  procure  specimens  for 
a  scientific  object."  m 

Almost  as  bad  in  its  results  as  to  kill  birds 
outright  is  to  slander  them.  Several  birds, 
simply  because  of  a  bad  name  fastened  upon 
them,  are  considered  fair  game  for  persecu- 
tion. There  is  the  catbird,  beautiful,  useful 
to  us,  and  a  charming  singer;  because  his  call- 
note  at  a  little  distance  resembles  the  mew  of 
the  cat,  he  has  not  only  been  named  after  his 


HIS  USEFULNESS  TO  US  279 

worst  enemy,  but  invested  in  the  popular 
mind  with  the  vices  the  same  unthinking 
notion  has  bestowed  upon  the  poor  cat.  "I 
hate  a  catbird  !  "  one  often  hears ;  yet  if  the 
speaker  is  forced  to  give  reasons,  they  will 
almost  invariably  be  found  nothing  more  im- 
portant than  that  he  "  mews." 

Of  the  catbird,  Nehrling  says :  "  From 
early  morning  to  sunset  it  watches  over  the 
fruit-trees,  and  kills  the  insects  that  would 
destroy  them  or  their  fruit.  True  it  takes  its 
share,  especially  of  cherries,  but  for  every 
one  it  takes  it  eats  thousands  of  insects. 
Where  there  are  no  small  birds  there  will  be 
little  fruit."271 

One  of  the  most  persistently  slandered 
birds  is  the  blue  jay.  Listen  to  the  words  of 
observers  who  do  not  speak  from  hearsay  but 
from  positive  first-hand  knowledge.  "That 
swaggering  fellow  the  blue  jay,"  says  Praeger, 
"  seems  desirous  of  making  a  bad  impression, 
but  the  fact  is  he  is  a  great  blusterer ;  it  is 
only  on  rare  occasions  that  he  robs  other 
birds'  nests,  and  the  amount  of  fruit  he  con- 
sumes is  trifling.  His  favorite  food  is  acorns, 
beechnuts,  and  chestnuts,  varied  with  some 


280  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

waste  corn  and  wheat.  Grasshoppers,  cater- 
pillars, and  beetles  form  one  fourth  of  his 
food.  A  pair  of  jays  is  certainly  an  acquisi- 
tion to  any  orchard."  ^ 

Says  Professor  Lane :  "  If  we  could  learn 
the  secret  of  a  single  winter's  work  done  by  a 
blue  jay,  of  every  grub  and  chrysalis  torn 
from  its  hiding-place,  of  every  hurtful  seed 
destroyed,  ...  we  should  not  begrudge  the 
busy  worker  the  grain  or  the  corn  stolen  from 
grainery  or  bin." 

Dr.  Brewer  says  that  a  pair  of  jays  feed 
their  young  five  hundred  thousand  caterpil- 
lars in  a  season,  also  that  one  pair  will  destroy 
a  million  insect  eggs  each  winter.273 

And,  lastly,  let  me  refer  to  the  testimony 
of  the  Department  of  Agriculture,  from  the 
examination  of  the  contents  of  nearly  three 
hundred  stomachs :  "  The  accusations  of  eat- 
ing eggs  and  young  birds  are  certainly  not 
sustained.  ...  In  fact,  the  examination  of 
nearly  three  hundred  stomachs  shows  that  the 
blue  jay  certainly  does  far  more  good  than 
harm."274 

Our  beautiful  Baltimore  oriole  has  been 
accused  of  various  ill  deeds, — eating  honey- 


HIS  USEFULNESS  TO  US  281 

bees,  from  which  he  has  been  completely  ex- 
onerated, and  lately  of  pecking  grapes.  But 
one  farmer  who  suffered  from  his  fondness 
for  this  fruit  says  that,  in  spite  of  that  pro- 
pensity, he  is  worth  his  weight  in  gold  as  an 
insect-destroyer.  This  bird  is  well  known  to 
eat  great  quantities  of  wireworms  and  hairy 
caterpillars,  that  few  birds  will  touch,  and  he 
has  been  amply  proved  to  be  of  great  value 
to  us. 

The  dainty  cedar  waxwing  is  sometimes 
called  cherry-bird,  so  named,  it  is  supposed, 
because  of  his  fondness  for  that  fruit.  It  is 
admitted  that  the  bird  has  the  good  taste  to 
prefer  a  fruit  diet,  but,  fortunately  for  us  who 
share  this  liking  of  his,  he  chooses  the  wild 
fruits  when  he  can  get  them.  Also  he  devours 
immense  numbers  of  canker-worms.  In  one 
case  where  an  orchard  was  infested  by  these 
pests,  a  small  flock  of  cedar-birds  came  to  the 
rescue.  A  few  were  shot  to  make  sure  of  what 
they  were  eating,  and  in  the  stomach  were 
found  in  most  cases  about  one  hundred  of  the 
worms.  At  that  rate,  at  a  very  moderate  cal- 
culation, that  one  little  flock  was  destroying 
many  thousand  worms  every  day.275 


282  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

"Woodpeckers  come  in  for  plenty  of 
abuse,"  says  Mr.  Praeger.  "They  are  ac- 
cused of  injuring  the  bark  of  trees,  stealing 
fruit,  pecking  apples.  .  .  .  They  do  all  peck 
wood,  as  their  name  implies,  but  with  five  of 
our  species  this  is  only  to  get  at  the  inju- 
rious insect  within,  and  they  are  thus  con- 
servers  of  forests  and  orchards.  One  species, 
however,  the  yellow-bellied  woodpecker,  or 
sapsucker,  does  eat  largely  of  the  soft  inner 
layer  of  bark,  the  cambium  layer,  and  girdles 
trees  to  obtain  the  sap.  Where  the  bird  is 
abundant  it  can  do  real  injury.  .  .  .  Besides 
cambium  and  sap,  it  preys  largely  on  insects, 
and  seems  never  to  touch  domestic  fruit."  m 
The  other  woodpeckers  are  almost  uniformly 
beneficial.  Their  field  of  labor  is  the  trees, 
and  the  service  that  birds  perform  in  pro- 
tecting woodland  trees  is  more  nearly  indis- 
pensable to  man  than  any  other  benefit  they 
confer  on  him. 

Moreover  the  injury  done  by  the  sapsucker 
is  greatly  exaggerated,  and  indeed  disputed 
by  some  observers.  Otto  Widmann,  a  trust- 
worthy ornithologist,  says  that  certain  trees 
not  only  girdled  but  in  some  places  completely 


HIS  USEFULNESS  TO  US  283 

covered  with  holes  throve  as  if  not  hurt  in  the 
least  by  these  perforations  and  the  loss  of 
sap.277  I  have  myself  seen  maple  trees  with 
trunks  for  three  or  four  feet  completely  cov- 
ered with  the  perforations  of  the  sapsucker, 
always,  of  course,  a  little  distance  apart,  flour- 
ishing equally  with  others  beside  them  which 
had  not  been  touched ;  also  a  shrub,  I  believe 
mountain-ash,  with  the  stems  almost  com- 
pletely girdled  near  the  roots,  still  in  perfect 
condition. 

The  motive  of  the  bird  in  making  these 
perforations  is  also  seriously  questioned.  Many 
who  have  seen  them  at  work  and  watched 
closely,  testify  that  the  exuding  sap  attracts 
many  insects,  on  which  the  bird  is  seen  to 
feed.  It  is  a  significant  fact  that  when  Mr. 
Bolles,  wishing  to  prove  that  the  sapsucker 
lives  upon  sap,  fed  some  captive  sapsuckers 
on  that  sort  of  food,  they  all  died,  thus  prov- 
ing to  the  unscientific  mind  that  they  could 
not  live  upon  it. 

The  cuckoo,  called  also  rain-crow  and  Indian 
hen,  is,  in  spite  of  some  superstition  connected 
with  him,  and  in  spite  of  the  misrepresenta- 
tions of  sensational  writers,  one  of  the  most 


284  THE   BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

useful  birds  to  us.  One  reason  for  the  mystery 
attaching  to  this  bird  is  his  silent  way  of  get- 
ting about  and  his  habit  of  keeping  himself 
concealed.  He  does  not  fly  about  much  when 
foraging,  but  simply  passes  from  tree  to  tree, 
keeping  well  in  towards  the  trunk  and  slip- 
ping from  branch  to  branch,  more  like  a  beast 
than  a  bird.  But  he  devours  immense  numbers 
of  hairy  caterpillars,  which  are  repulsive  to 
most  birds.  In  the  Agricultural  Department 
at  Washington  may  be  seen  the  stomach  of  a 
cuckoo  so  thickly  set  with  the  hairs  of  cater- 
pillars it  had  eaten  that  it  looks  like  a  piece 
of  fine  fur.  In  analyzing  the  contents  of  the 
stomachs,  some  cuckoos  were  found  who  had 
eaten  more  than  one  hundred  tent-caterpillars, 
and  one  with  two  hundred  and  seventeen  fall 
web-worms,  —  by  actual  count,  —  of  course 
only  one  meal  of  each  bird.278 

Each  species  of  bird  has  his  own  place  to 
fill,  his  part  to  perform  in  keeping  down  the 
armies  of  insects.  One  species  clears  the  tree 
trunks,  while  his  neighbor  works  under  the 
bark  ;  another  goes  over  the  larger  branches, 
and  still  another  attends  to  the  twigs  and 
leaves;  and  some  species  put  all  their  work 


HIS  USEFULNESS  TO  US  285 

upon  shrubs.  Many  confine  themselves  to  the 
surface  of  the  earth,  and  among  these  too 
there  is  a  division  of  labor.  Kobins  take  care 
of  the  lawn,  thrushes  do  the  same  kind  of 
work  in  the  woods,  towhees  search  under 
bushes  and  weeds,  meadowlarks  keep  the 
meadows  clean,  and  the  various  species  of  na- 
tive sparrows  are  everywhere  at  work  on  the 
ground.  Swallows  and  flycatchers  watch  the 
air,  and  shore-birds  keep  our  beaches  clean. 
Hawks  and  owls  relieve  each  other,  day  and 
night,  in  destruction  of  mice  and  moles  and 
other  small  enemies,  while  buzzards  and  their 
kind  perform  valuable  scavenger  duty. 

The  list  is  endless,  for,  as  I  have  said,  each 
species  has  its  own  well-defined  sphere  of 
operations,  and  no  one,  that  I  have  heard  of, 
was  ever  known  to  shirk,  to  strike,  or  in  any 
way  to  neglect  its  duty. 

The  kingbird  is  a  little  brother  laboring 
under  a  load  of  slander.  He  is  accused  of  eat- 
ing bees,  and  hundreds  of  kingbirds  have  been 
shot  to  prove  or  disprove  this  charge.  In  all 
cases  so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  discover, 
the  bees  eaten  have  been  found  to  be  almost 
exclusively  the  drones.  Not  that  the  bird  is 


286  THE   BIRD  OUR   BROTHER 

supposed  to  select  in  the  interest  of  the  bee- 
keeper, but  for  the  very  good  reasons  that 
the  drones  fly  higher  than  the  honey-bees  and 
are  therefore  more  accessible  to  flycatchers, 
also  that  drones  have  no  sting  and  are  distin- 
guished by  a  white  face  and  so  are  easily  rec- 
ognizable to  the  sharp  eyes  of  the  birds.279 

Walter  E.  Bryant,  a  well-known  writer, 
tells  of  an  extensive  bee-keeper  in  California, 
who,  finding  numbers  of  kingbirds  darting 
about  among  his  bees,  killed  and  dissected 
more  than  one  hundred  and  found  them  gorged 
with  bees,  but  in  no  case  was  there  one  honey- 
bee ;  all  were  drones.  This  bird  was,  no  doubt, 
the  Arkansas  kingbird,  the  California  species, 
with  habits,  however,  about  the  same  as  the 
Eastern  species. 

In  other  cases  kingbirds  have  been  found 
who  had  eaten  robber-flies,  a  pest  known  to 
have  killed  one  hundred  and  forty  honey-bees 
in  a  day.  In  addition  the  kingbird  is  an  in- 
dustrious hunter  of  insects  known  to  be  inju- 
rious. Among  them  are  the  gadfly,  the  clover- 
leaf  weevil,  the  destructive  rose-chafer,  ants, 
and  grasshoppers.280 

The  common  robin  is  another  bird  under 


HIS  USEFULNESS  TO  US  287 

the  ban  because  of  his  fondness  for  fruit,  but 
as  a  result  of  the  examination  of  many  stom- 
achs, this  is  the  decision :  when  the  snow  is 
off  the  ground,  the  robin  comes  to  the  lawn, 
subsisting  chiefly  on  fly  larvae ;  one  hundred 
and  seventy-five  have  been  found  in  one  stom- 
ach. As  the  season  advances  they  eat  larvae 
of  many  kinds,  beetles,  grasshoppers,  and 
other  ground  insects.  During  March  (these 
statistics,  it  should  be  stated,  were  compiled 
for  Illinois)  much  of  their  food  is  cutworms  ; 
in  April,  beetles ;  but  up  to  the  end  of  May, 
ninety-five  per  cent  of  their  food  is  insects. 
In  June,  July,  and  August  they  eat  more 
fruit,  but  much  of  this  is  wild.  Forty-one  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  wild  berries  have  been  found  in 
the  stomachs.  On  the  whole,  Professor  Forbes, 
summing  up  the  evidence,  says,  "I,  for  my 
part,  do  not  believe  that  the  horticulturist  can 
sell  his  small  fruits  anywhere  in  the  ordinary 
markets  of  the  world  at  so  high  a  price  as  to  the 
robin,  provided  he  uses  proper  diligence  that 
the  little  huckster  does  not  overreach  him  in 
the  bargain."281 

The  shrike,  branded  with  the  name  butcher- 
bird, given  him  at  first  because  he  hangs  his 


288  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

food  as  does  a  butcher  his  wares,  but  of  late 
used  as  a  term  of  vilification,  suffers  also 
under  a  load  of  prejudice,  added  to  by  many 
latter-day  writers,  who  care  far  more  for 
sensational  statements  than  for  the  truth  (as 
already  noted).  Besides  the  observations  of 
unprejudiced  and  careful  students,  the  testi- 
mony of  the  official  investigations  of  the  Ag- 
ricultural Department,  so  often  mentioned,  is 
conclusive.  It  is  thus  summed  up  by  the  late 
Sylvester  D.  Judd :  "  The  present  investiga- 
tion shows  that  beneficial  birds  form  less  than 
one  fourth  of  the  food  of  the  butcher-bird.  It 
also  shows  that  the  butcher-bird,  in  addition 
to  being  an  enemy  of  mice,  is  a  potent  check 
on  the  English  sparrow  and  on  several  insect 
pests.  One  fourth  of  its  food  is  mice ;  another 
fourth  grasshoppers;  a  third  fourth  consists 
of  native  sparrows  and  predaceous  beetles 
and  spiders ;  while  the  remainder  is  made  up 
of  English  sparrows  and  species  of  insects, 
most  of  which  are  noxious." 282 

The  celebrated  Scotch  naturalist  Thomas 
Edward  once  found  the  mouth  of  a  swift  that 
had  been  shot  full  of  gnats  and  flies  she  was 
taking  to  her  nest.  Many  of  them  were  alive, 


HIS  USEFULNESS  TO  US  289 

but  they  seemed  to  be  held  together  by  some 
glutinous  fluid,  probably  the  saliva.  He  took 
the  mass  home  and  examined  it.  There  were 
fully  one  hundred  gnats  and  flies  in  that  one 
mouthful.  From  this  and  observations  of  the 
frequency  with  which  the  old  birds  feed  the 
young,  he  made  careful  calculations  and  came 
to  the  conclusion  that,  during  the  rearing  of 
their  usual  two  broods,  one  pair  of  swifts,  in 
one  season,  would  destroy  the  enormous  num- 
ber of  nearly  three  hundred  thousand  of  these 
pests  of  the  air.  This  makes  it  nothing  less 
than  a  crime  to  kill  a  swift.283 

The  testimony  in  favor  of  that  much  ma- 
ligned bird,  the  common  crow,  is  so  abundant 
that  it  cannot  be  repeated  here.  I  will  there- 
fore give  an  unimpeachable  verdict.  An  ex- 
haustive study  of  the  food  habits  of  the  com- 
mon crow  by  the  examination  of  over  nine 
hundred  stomachs  is  summed  up  in  an  official 
report  of  the  Department  of  Agriculture  at 
Washington,  in  these  words,  "  The  facts  on 
the  whole  overwhelmingly  speak  in  favor  of 
the  crow."284 

I  have  offered  but  few  of  the  immense 
number  of  statistics  showing  the  value  to  us 


290  THE  BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

of  the  bird  race.  If  a  fuller  appreciation  of 
their  services  could  bring  about  better  rela- 
tions, a  surer  protection,  the  benefit  to  us 
would  be  incalculable.  If  we  could  retain 
alive  the  millions  that  are  sacrificed  by  nest- 
robbers,  collectors,  and  gunners  of  all  sorts 
we  should  reap  a  substantial  reward  at  once. 
No  more  would  our  grain  fields  be  destroyed 
nor  our  fruit  devastated  in  the  bud ;  no  more 
would  our  oak  trees  be  disfigured  with  broken 
and  dead  branches  in  the  midst  of  the  green, 
nor  our  orchards  be  unsightly  with  the  nests 
of  caterpillars ;  no  more  would  our  city  streets 
be  foul  with  the  crushed  bodies  of  worms, 
nor  our  vegetables  be  black-hearted  with  the 
work  of  another  pest. 

Greater  than  this  in  importance  is  the  ben- 
efit which  would  result  to  our  boys  by  a 
training  in  humanity.  No  one  in  this  en- 
lightened day  can  doubt  that  such  training 
is  greatly  to  be  desired,  by  just  so  much,  in- 
deed, as  a  noble  manhood  is  more  to  be  de- 
sired than  a  state  of  brutal  savagery.  No  one 
quality  takes  a  youth  so  far  on  his  way  up- 
ward to  the  perfect  manhood  as  humanity  to 
those  weaker  or  lower  than  himself.  The  boy 


HIS  USEFULNESS  TO  US  291 

trained  to  be  gentle  to  animals,  to  be  rever- 
ent of  all  life,  will  never  descend  below  the 
level  of  the  brute,  as  many  human  beings  do 
at  present;  no  wife-beaters,  no  murderers 
will  come  from  the  ranks  of  the  humanely 
taught  boy.  And  this  is  not  a  mere  opinion 
of  mine.  It  is  a  fact  obtained  by  a  careful 
examination  into  the  early  training  of  crim- 
inals in  many  prisons. 

I  will  close  the  subject  with  the  words  of 
an  ornithologist  whom  I  have  quoted  several 
times  in  this  chapter,  William  E.  Praeger  of 
Illinois :  — 

"I  would  be  doing  a  great  injustice  to  my 
subject  were  I  to  limit  the  beneficial  influence 
of  the  birds,  to  the  field  and  garden.  No  com- 
mon drudges  are  they,  sullenly  working  for 
a  daily  wage,  but  they  come  brightly  clad 
and  with  joyous  voices  to  their  appointed 
task.  With  man  alone  they  share  that  won- 
derful power  of  song,  their  speed  and  grace 
of  movement  fill  us  with  admiring  envy,  the 
exquisite  colors  and  texture  of  their  plumage 
are  unequaled  among  created  beings;  they 
appeal  to  our  best  aesthetic  sense.  And  in 
their  lives  we  see  beings  gifted  with  a  high 


292  THE  BIRD   OUR  BROTHER 

order  of  intelligence,  teaching  us  love,  cour- 
age, constancy,  maternal  care,  devotion  to 
duty.  There  is  not  one  of  us  but  may  learn  a 
lesson  from  the  birds.  So  when  winter  comes, 
and  the  crops  are  gathered  in,  and  the  little 
workers  wing  their  way  toward  their  southern 
homes,  let  us  bid  them  farewell,  not  only  as 
good  and  faithful  servants  worthy  of  their 
hire,  but  as  true  and  helpful  friends,  admired 
and  loved,  who  have  brought  wealth,  health, 
joy,  and  beauty  into  the  lovely  land  of  Illi- 
nois."285 


XIV 
CONCLUSION 


XIV 

CONCLUSION 

I  WILL  end  this  earnest  attempt  to  stimulate 
a  deeper  interest  and  induce  a  more  intelligent 
study  of  the  bird,  which  has  been  with  me  a 
labor  of  love,  with  a  few  concluding  words 
which  I  beg  my  patient  reader  to  consider 
thoughtfully. 

The  bird  is  not  only  our  brother  —  he  is 
far  more.  He  is  our  benefactor,  our  preserver, 
for  the  simple  reason  that  he  alone  is  able  to 
hold  in  check  the  most  powerful  race  on  earth 
—  the  insects.  It  is  well  known  to  scientific 
men  that  the  insect  tribes,  unchecked,  would 
control  the  earth.  Innumerable,  multiplying 
with  a  rapidity  that  defies  figures  and  even 
comprehension,  devouring  everything  that  has, 
or  has  had,  life,  from  the  vegetable  to  man, 
and  living  but  to  eat,  these  myriads  would 
soon,  if  left  to  themselves,  reduce  our  planet 
to  a  barren  wilderness,  uninhabitable  by  man 
or  beast.  This  fact  is  so  well  known  that  it 
is  unnecessary  to  go  into  particulars. 


296  THE   BIRD  OUR  BROTHER 

With  this  power  man  cannot  cope.  Nothing 
that  he  can  do,  no  engine  of  destruction  that 
he  has  been  able  to  devise,  has  had  more  than 
the  slightest  effect  upon  this  marvelous  life. 
This  also  is  too  well  known  to  need  proof. 
Birds  and  birds  alone,  spending  their  lives 
in  unceasing  war  upon  insects,  can  ensure 
our  safety.  Therefore  I  repeat  —  and  I  say 
it  in  all  seriousness  —  the  bird  is  not  only 
our  brother,  he  is  our  benefactor,  our  pre- 
server. 

"  The  charm  of  the  East,"  says  a  well-known 
writer  of  our  time,  "  is  a  universal  sympathy 
for  the  animal,  a  tenderness  for  all  life.  The 
West  has  its  peculiar  splendors,  but  the  moral 
attraction  of  Asia  lies  in  the  sentiment  of  unity 
which  you  feel  in  a  world  where  man  is  not 
divorced  from  Nature,  where  animals  are 
ignorant  that  they  have  cause  to  dread  the 
human  species. 

"  Birds  come  at  the  Bramin's  call  to  eat 
from  his  hand  ;  apes  on  the  pagoda  roofs  sleep 
in  domestic  peace,  and  play  with  their  little 
ones  in  as  much  security  as  in  the  bosom 
of  their  native  forest;  in  Cairo  turtle-doves 
live  in  the  midst  of  the  clamor  of  the  city, 


CONCLUSION  297 

and  may  be  seen  cooing  on  the  window  shut- 
ters in  the  narrow  streets,  while  eagles  sleep 
in  confidence  on  the  balconies  of  the  min- 


arets." 


APPENDIX 


APPENDIX 

CITATIONS   OF  BOOKS   AND   ARTICLES    QUOTED 

1.  Frank  Bolles :  From  Blomidon  to  Smoky,  pp. 
223,  236. 

2.  J.  A.  Allen :  in  American  Naturalist,  1869, 
vol.  3,  p.  510. 

3.  Frank  Bolles:   From  Blomidon  to   Smoky, 
p.  232. 

4.  "A  Son  of  the  Marshes : "  On  Surrey  HiUs, 
p.  262. 

5.  Ibid.,  p.  298. 

6.  Simeon  Pease  Cheney:  Wood  Notes  Wild, 
p.  25. 

7.  Henry  Oldys :  magazine  article,  "  Woodland 
Music." 

8.  F.  Schuyler  Mathews :  Field  Book  of  Wild 
Birds  and  their  Music,  pp.  xviii,  xix. 

9.  William    Earl    Dodge    Scott:    in   Science, 
January  31,  1902,  vol.  15  (N.  s.),  p.  178. 

10.  Francis  Hobart  Herrick:  in  The  Century 
Magazine,  October,  1903,  vol.  44  (N.  s.),  p.  868. 

11.  K.  A.  Buist :  Birds,  their  Cages  and  their 
Keep,  pp.  82,  83,  92,  94. 

12.  C.  William  Beebe,  Curator  of  Ornithology 
in  New  York  Zoological  Park :  signed  newspaper 
cutting. 


302  APPENDIX 

13.  C.  William  Beebe :  Report  of  a  paper  read 
before  the  New  York  Zoological  Society,  New  York 
Herald,  January  20,  1903. 

14.  C.   Lloyd   Morgan:    Habit    and    Instinct, 
p.  182. 

15.  Irene  Grosvenor  Wheelock:    Nestlings    of 
Forest  and  Marsh,  p.  34. 

16.  Dr.   George     Harley,   F.  R.  S. :    Selborne 
Letters. 

17.  Frank  Bolles:  From  Blomidon  to  Smoky, 
pp.  222,  226-228,  234,  235. 

18.  Alfred  Newton:    A   Dictionary  of   Birds, 
p.  1004. 

19.  William  Earle  Dodge  Scott:  in  The  Out- 
look, May  7,  1904,  vol.  77,  p.  51. 

20.  "A  Son  of  the  Marshes:"  In  the  Green 
Leaf  and  the  Sere,  p.  107. 

21.  Edward  Howe  Forbush  :  Useful  Birds  and 
their  Protection,  pp.  405,  406  ;  quoting  story  from 
J.  G.  Millais's  Natural   History  of  the   British 
Surface-Feeding  Ducks,  p.  85. 

22.  Edmund  Selous :  The  Bird  Watcher  in  the 
Shetlands,  p.  174. 

23.  F.  W.  Headley :  The  Structure  and  Life  of 
Birds,  p.  328. 

24.  «  A  Son  of  the  Marshes : "  On  Surrey  Hills, 
pp.  19,  20. 

25.  Edward   H.  Forbush:   Useful   Birds   and 
their  Protection,  p.  346. 


APPENDIX  303 

26.  F.  E.  L.  Beal :  Food  of  Woodpeckers,  Bul- 
letin No.  7,  Division  of  Ornithology  and  Mam- 
malogy, United   States  Department  of  Agricul- 
ture. 

27.  Maurice  Thompson :  Sylvan  Secrets,  p.  19. 

28.  F.  W.  Headley :  The  Structure  and  Life  of 
Birds,  p.  328. 

29.  Edmund  Selous :  Bird  Watching,  p.  48. 

30.  Oscar  Bird  Warren :  in  The  Auk,  January, 
1899,  vol.  16,  pp.  18, 19. 

31.  Edward  Howe  Forbush :  Useful  Birds  and 
their  Protection,  p.  402. 

32.  Frank  Bolles :  At  the  North  of  Bearcamp 
Water,  pp.  108-110. 

33.  Dr.  George  Harley,  F.  R.  S. :  Selborne  So- 
ciety Paper,  "  Why  do  Wild  Birds  Shun  Human 
Beings,"  p.  4. 

34.  Mrs.  Julia  Stockton  Robins,  Secretary  Penn- 
sylvania Audubon  Society :  private  letter. 

35.  Mrs.  Eliza  Brightwen:  Wild  Nature  won 
by  Kindness,  and  private  letter. 

36.  Mrs.  Freeman,  mother  of  Alice  Freeman 
Palmer,  in  conversation. 

37.  Lafcadio  Hearn:   Glimpses  of  Unfamiliar 
Japan,  p.  612. 

38.  Mary   Treat:   Home   Studies    in   Nature, 
pp.  59,  60. 

39.  Fannie  Hardy  Eckstonn :  The  Woodpeck- 
ers, pp.  65,  66. 


304  APPENDIX 

40.  Frederic  Houssay  :  The  Industries  of  Ani- 
mals, pp.  39,  40. 

41.  Fannie  Hardy  Eckstorm:  The  Woodpeck- 
ers, pp.  56-58. 

42.  Charles  Bendire:  Life  Histories  of  North 
American  Birds,  vol.  2,  pp.  350,  351. 

43.  John  Muir :  The  Mountains  of  California, 
p.  370. 

44.  Eichard    Jefferies :    The    Gamekeeper    at 
Home,  London,  1878,  p.  83. 

45.  W.  H.  Hudson,  C.  M.  Z.  S. :  The  Natural- 
ist in  La  Plata,  p.  210. 

46.  Nathaniel  Southgate  Shaler :  Domesticated 
Animals,  p.  233. 

47.  Henry   C.  McCook:    Harper's  Magazine, 
May,  1907,  vol.  114,  p.  934. 

48.  Sir    Edwin   Arnold:    article   in    Youth's 
Companion. 

49.  C.  J.  Cornish:  Animals  of  To-day,  pp.  223- 
225. 

50.  Ibid.,  p.  225. 

51.  Dr.  George  Harley,  F.  E.  S.:  Selborne  So- 
ciety Letters. 

52.  Edmund  Selous :  Bird  "Watching,  pp.  261, 
291,  299. 

53.  W.   Warde   Fowler:    Summer  Studies   of 
Birds  and  Books,  p.  148. 

54.  Maurice  Thompson:  Sylvan  Secrets,  p.  75. 

55.  Eichard  Jefferies :  Wild  Life  in  a  Southern 
County,  Boston,  1879,  pp.  132, 133. 


APPENDIX  305 

56.  L.  M.  Turner :  Contributions  to  the  Natural 
History  of  Alaska,  p.  168. 

57.  Nathaniel  Southgate  Shaler :  Domesticated 
Animals,  p.  156. 

58.  John  James  Audubon :  in  Audubon  and  his 
Journals,  vol.  1,  p.  212. 

59.  John  Lewis  Childs :  in  The  Auk,  January, 
1900,  vol.  17,  p.  68. 

60.  Captain   Brown:    quoted  in   Our  Animal 
Friends. 

61.  Samuel  N.  Rhoads :  in  American  Naturalist, 
September,  1886,  vol.  20,  pp.  782,  783. 

62.  William  Earl  Dodge   Scott:    in  Outlook, 
May  7,  1904,  vol.  77,  pp.  50,  51. 

63.  Sidney   Lanier :    Bob ;    the   Story  of  our 
Mocking-Bird,  pp.  11-13. 

64.  Buffon :    The   Natural   History  of    Birds, 
English  Translation,  London,  1793,  vol.  5,  pp.  7,  8. 

65.  Frithof  Kumlien :  in  The  Auk,  1888,  vol. 
5,  pp.  334,  435. 

66.  James  Newton  Baskett:  The  Story  of  the 
Birds,  p.  95. 

67.  Francis  Hobart  Herrick :  The  Home  Life 
of  Wild  Birds,  first  edition,  p.  27  ;  revised  edition, 
p.  51. 

68.  Leander  S.  Keyser:  signed  newspaper  ar- 
ticle. 

69.  Mrs.  Julia  Stockton  Robins :  private  letter. 

70.  Edmund  Selous:  The  Bird  Watcher  in  the 
Shetlands,  p.  42. 


306  APPENDIX 

71.  Walter  K.  Fisher:   Birds  of  Laysan  and 
the  Leeward  Islands,  Hawaiian  Group,  in  United 
States  Fish  Commission  Bulletin  for  1903. 

72.  Dictionary  of  Natural  History,  1784. 

73.  Ibid. 

74.  Ibid. 

75.  C.  Lloyd  Morgan :  Habit  and  Instinct. 

76.  Ibid.  " 

77.  "A  Son  of  the  Marshes:"  In  the  Green 
Leaf  and  the  Sere,  p.  35. 

78.  C.  Lloyd  Morgan:  Habit  and  Instinct, p.  83. 

79.  W.  H.  Hudson:  The  Naturalist  in  La  Plata, 
p.  85. 

80.  Ibid.,  p.  84. 

81.  Nathaniel  Southgate  Shaler:  Domesticated 
Animals,  p.  235. 

82.  W.H.  Hudson:  The  Naturalist  in  La  Plata, 
pp.  90,  91. 

83.  Eldridge  Eugene  Fish:  The  Blessed  Birds, 
p.  146. 

84.  Daines  Barrington :  in  Philosophical  Trans- 
actions, 1773,  pp.  253-258. 

85.  "William  E.  D.  Scott:  in  Science,  January 
31,  1902,  vol.  15,  pp.  180, 181. 

86.  W.  E.  D.  Scott:    in  Outlook,  May  7, 1904, 
vol.  77,  p.  48. 

87.  Thomas  Proctor,  former  resident  of  Brook- 
lyn, N.  Y. 

88.  Mrs.  M.  L.  Hallock :  in  private  letter. 


APPENDIX  307 

89.  Evelyn  H.   Pollard:    The  Birds    of    My 
Parish,  p.  108. 

90.  Daniel   Giraud  Elliot:    The    Gallinaceous 
Game  Birds  of  North  America,  p.  24. 

91.  Edmund  Selous:  Bird  Watching,  p.  180. 

92.  Ibid.,  pp.  183,  184. 

93.  Edward   W.  Nelson:   Keport  on   Alaska, 
p.  181. 

94.  Newspaper  cutting. 

95.  Sir    Edwin    Arnold:    article    in    Youth's 
Companion. 

96.  Samuel  Smiles :  Life  of  a  Scotch  Naturalist : 
Thomas  Edward,  London,  1876,  pp.  235,  236. 

97.  Charles  Bendire:  Life  Histories  of  North 
American  Birds,  vol.  2,  p.  182 ;  quoting  from  For- 
est and  Stream,  Sept.  15, 1894. 

98.  C.   William  Beebe:   Two  Bird-Lovers  in 
Mexico,  p.  174. 

99.  Alfred  Edmund  Brehm  :  From  North  Pole 
to  Equator,  p.  276. 

100.  W.   H.  Hudson:    The  Naturalist  in  La 
Plata,  pp.  252,  253. 

101.  Ibid.,  p.  24. 

102.  Ibid.,  p.  225. 

103.  Ibid.,  p.  147. 

104.  Arthur  Nicols,  F.  G.  S.,  F.  R.  G.  S. :  Zoo- 
logical Notes,  pp.  338,  339. 

105.  Eldridge  Eugene  Fish :  The  Blessed  Birds, 
pp.  29,  30. 


308  APPENDIX 

106.  Nathaniel  Southgate  Shaler :  Domesticated 
Animals,  p.  176. 

107.  Alfred  Edmund  Brehm :  From  North  Pole 
to  Equator,  p.  277. 

108.  Charles  Bendire :  Life  Histories  of  North 
American  Birds,  vol.  1,  pp.  264,  272,  296,  310. 

109.  George  A.  B.  Dewar:  The  Birds  in  Our 
Wood,  p.  11. 

110.  Dr.  Karl  Russ :  The  Speaking  Parrots :  A 
Scientific  Manual,  translated  by  Leonora  Sehultze, 
pp.  35,  38,  39. 

111.  Ernest  Dulitz:    quoted  by  Russ,  op.  cit., 
p.  138. 

112.  Mrs.  M.  L.  Hallock,  of  Brooklyn,  N.  Y. : 
private  letter. 

113.  "  A  Son  of  the  Marshes : "  Within  an  Hour 
of  London  Town,  p.  37. 

114.  Maurice  Thompson :  Sylvan  Secrets,  p.  71. 

115.  Eldridge  Eugene  Fish:  The  Blessed  Birds, 
pp.  198,  199. 

116.  Effie  Bignell :  Mr.  Chnpes  and  Miss  Jenny. 

117.  Mrs.  Annie  Trumbull  Slosson :  Leaflet  of 
Florida  Audubon  Society. 

118.  John  Gould,  F.  R.  S. :  Handbook  to  the 
Birds  of  Australia,  vol.  1,  p.  300. 

119.  Charles  Bendire :  Life  Histories  of  North 
American    Birds,   vol.   1,  p.  79,   quoting  L.   M. 
Turner's  Notes  on   the   Birds   of   Labrador  and 
Ungava. 


APPENDIX  309 

120.  L.  Lloyd:    The   Game  Birds   and  Wild 
Fowl  of  Sweden  and  Norway,  pp.  19-23. 

121.  Edmund  Selous :  Bird  Watching,  p.  16. 

122.  Article  in  The  Gartenlauber,  1880. 

123.  Lynds  Jones  :  quoted  in  Charles  Bendire's 
Life  Histories  of  North  American  Birds,  vol.  1, 
p.  378. 

124.  Leander  S.   Keyser:    In  Bird   Land,   p. 
162. 

125.  Charles  Bendire :  Life  Histories  of  North 
^American  Birds,  vol.  2,  p.  323. 

126.  Edmund  Selous :  Bird  Watching,  p.  22. 

127.  Henry  W.   Elliott:    The   Seal-Islands  of 
Alaska,  pp.  133,  134. 

128.  Edmund  Selous  :  Bird  Watching,  pp.  166- 
168. 

129.  Edmund  Selous:  The  Bird  Watcher  in  the 
Shetlands,  pp.  123,  125. 

130.  Edmund  Selous :  Bird  Watching,  p.  120. 

131.  Alfred  Newton,  A  Dictionary  of   Birds, 
pp.  49-51. 

132.  Oscar  Bird  Warren:    A  Chapter  in  the 
Life  of  the  Canada  Jay,  in  Auk,  January,  1899, 
vol.  16,  p.  14. 

133.  Dr.    A.    K.    Fisher:    quoted    "by    Major 
Bendire  in  Life   Histories   of   North    American 
Birds,  vol.  2,  p.  38. 

134.  Alfred  Edmund  Brehm  :  From  North  Pole 
to  Equator,  pp.  55-57. 


310  APPENDIX 

135.  John  Muir :  The  Mountains  of  California, 
pp.  276-299. 

136.  Olive  Thorne  Miller  :  A  Bird-Lover  in  the 
West,  p.  224. 

137.  W.  H.  Hudson:  Argentine  Ornithology, 
pp.  167-170. 

138.  A.   H.    Evans,    M.  A. :   The    Cambridge 
Natural  History :  Birds,  p.  424. 

139.  D.  P.  Ingraham :  in  Papers  presented  to 
the  World's   Congress  on  Ornithology,  Chicago, 
1896,  pp.  59-69. 

140.  Frank  M.  Chapman:  A  Contribution  to 
the  Life  History  of  the  American  Flamingo,  Bul- 
letin American  Museum  Natural  History,  vol.  21, 
pp.  53-77. 

141.  Walter  K.  Fisher:  in  Auk,  October,  1903, 
vol.  20,  p.  386. 

142.  Thomas  S.  Koberts,  M.  D. :  in  Auk,  July, 
1900,  vol.  17,  pp.  275,  279,  280. 

143.  Major  Charles  Bendire :  Life  Histories  of 
North  American  Birds,  vol.  1,  p.  413. 

144.  Alfred  Newton :  A  Dictionary  of  Birds, 
p.  437. 

145.  H.  K.  Taylor:  in  Zoe,  April,  1890,  vol.  1, 
pp.  42-44;   quoted  by  Charles  Bendire,  in  Life 
Histories  of  North  American  Birds,  vol.  1,  p.  266. 

146.  Dr.  William  L.  Ralph,  quoted  "by  Charles 
Bendire   in  Life  Histories   of  North  American 
Birds,  vol.  1,  p.  275. 


APPENDIX  311 

147.  Edmund  Selous  :  Bird  Watching,  p.  174. 

148.  William   Palmer:    The  Avifauna   of   the 
Pribilof  Islands,  in  David  Starr  Jordan's  The  Fur 
Seals  and  Fur-Seal  Islands  of  the  North  Pacific 
Ocean,  part  3,  p.  377. 

149.  Irene  Grosvenor  Wheelock :  Birds  of  Cali- 
fornia, p.  51. 

150.  Jane  Mary  Hayward :  Bird  Notes,  pp.  29, 
133. 

151.  W.  H.  Hudson :  Birds  and  Man,  p.  288. 

152.  Fannie  Hardy  Eckstorm :  The  Bird  Book, 
p.  240. 

153.  Charles  Bendire : .  Life  Histories  of  North 
American  Birds,  vol  2,  p.  208. 

154.  William  Palmer :  Nidologist,  vol.  2,  p.  2. 

155.  Henry  O.  Forbes :  A  Naturalist's  Wander- 
ings in  the  Eastern  Archipelago,  pp.  33,  34. 

156.  Watson  L.  Bishop :  in  Forest  and  Stream, 
May  29, 1890  ;  quoted  by  Bendire  in  Life  Histories 
of  North  American  Birds,  vol.  1,  p.  54. 

157.  Alfred  Edmund  Brehm :  From  North  Pole 
to  Equator,  pp.  220,  221. 

158.  Arthur  Nicols :  Zoological -Notes,  pp.  287, 
288. 

159.  W.  Warde  Fowler :  A  Year  with  the  Birds, 
London,  1902,  p.  139. 

160.  W.  H.  Hudson :  The  Naturalist  in  La  Plata, 
pp.  280,  281. 

161.  Ibid.,  p.  264. 


312  APPENDIX 

162.  Karl  Groos :  The  Play  of  Animals,  pp.  74, 
75. 

163.  "A  Son   of  the   Marshes:"   On   Surrey 
Hills,  p.  139. 

164.  W.  E.  D.  Scott:  in  Outlook,  June  3, 1905, 
vol.  80,  p.  329. 

165.  Ed  ward  W.  Nelson:  Report  upon  the  Natu- 
ral History  Collections  made  in  Alaska,  p.  166. 

166.  L.  M.  Turner :  Contributions  to  the  Natu- 
ral History  of  Alaska,  p.  167. 

167.  Annie  Martin:  Home  Life  on  an  Ostrich 
Farm,  pp.  135,  148. 

168.  C.  Lloyd  Morgan :  Animal  Sketches,  p. 
171. 

169.  Edward   W.   Nelson:    Report   upon  the 
Natural  History  Collections  made  in  Alaska,  p.  95. 

170.  A.  D.  Bartlett :  Bartlett's  Life  Among  the 
Wild  Beasts  in  the  "Zoo,"  p.  187. 

171.  Ibid.,  p.  192. 

172.  W.  H.  Hudson :  Birds  and  Man,  p.  234. 

173.  Alfred  Edmund  Brehm:  From  North  Pole 
to  Equator,  p.  268. 

174.  Edward  W. Nelson:  Report  upon  the  Natu- 
ral History  Collections  made  in  Alaska,  p.  140. 

175.  William  James:    The  Principles  of  Psy- 
chology, vol.  2,  p.  428. 

176.  W.  H.  Hudson:    The   Naturalist  in  La 
Plata,  pp.  269,  270. 

177.  Ibid.,  pp.  266-268. 


APPENDIX  313 

178.  Walter  K.  Fisher :  in  Auk,  January,  1904, 
vol.  21,  pp.  9-14. 

179.  D.  P.  Ingraham :  in  Papers  presented  to 
the  World's  Congress  on  Ornithology,  p.  69. 

180.  C.  William  Beebe:   Two  Bird-Lovers  in 
Mexico,  p.  290. 

181.  Alfred  Russel  Wallace :  The  Malay  Archi- 
pelago, New  York,  1869,  p.  466. 

182.  Annie  Martin  :  Life  on  an  Ostrich  Farm, 
pp.  42,  43. 

183.  Ibid.,  pp.  176,  177. 

184.  L.  M.  Turner  :  Contributions  to  the  Natu- 
ral History  of  Alaska,  p.  167. 

185.  Miss  Day :  private  letter. 

186.  Maurice  Thompson :  By- Ways  and  Bird- 
Notes,  p.  52. 

187.  Charles  Bendire :  Life  Histories  of  North 
American  Birds,  vol.  1,  p.  412;  quoting  from  F. 
Stephens's  notes  published  by  William  Brewster 
in  Bulletin   Nuttall  Ornithological  Club,  vol.  8, 
p.  28. 

188.  Frank  Bolles:  From  Blomidon  to  Smoky, 
pp.  195,  196. 

189.  Ibid.,  pp.  196,  197. 

190.  C.  William  Beebe:    Two  Bird-Lovers  in 
Mexico,  p.  181. 

191.  Edward    W.    Nelson:    Report   upon    the 
Natural  History  Collections  made  in  Alaska,  p. 
134. 


314  APPENDIX 

192.  Charles  Bendire:  Life  Histories  of  North 
American  Birds,  vol.  1,  p.  413. 

193.  W.   H.  Hudson:    The  Naturalist  in   La 
Plata,  pp.  203,  204. 

194.  W.H.Hudson:  in  Proceedings  Zoological 
Society,  1875  ;  quoted  by  Arthur  Nicols  in  Zoologi- 
cal Notes,  pp.  251,  252. 

195.  "  A  Son  of  the  Marshes : "  Within  an  Hour 
of  London  Town,  pp.  262,  263,  265,  266. 

196.  John    James    Audubon:     Ornithological 
Biography,  vol.  1,  p.  194. 

197.  H.  E.  Dresser:  A  History  of  the  Birds  of 
Europe,  vol.  7,  p.  330 ;  quoting  Lord  Lilford. 

198.  "A  Son  of  the  Marshes:"  In  the  Green 
Leaf  and  the  Sere,  p.  157. 

199.  Ibid.,  pp.  30,  31. 

200.  E.  H.  Davis :  in  Scientific  American,  April 
22,  1882 ;  quoted  by  Bendire  in  Life  Histories  of 
North  American  Birds,  vol.  2,  p.  274. 

201.  James  Newton  Baskett :  The  Story  of  the 
Birds,  pp.  244,  245. 

202.  Alfred  Edmund  Brehm:  From  North  Pole 
to  Equator,  p.  102. 

203.  C.   Lloyd  Morgan:   Habit  and  Instinct, 
p.  85. 

204.  L.  M.  Turner :  Contributions  to  the  Natu- 
ral History  of  Alaska,  p.  167. 

205.  W.  H.  Hudson :    The  Naturalist  in  La 
Plata,  p.  26. 


APPENDIX  315 

206.  Fannie  Hardy  Eckstorm  :  The  Bird  Book, 
p.  17. 

207.  John  Muir :  The  Mountains  of  California, 
p.  286. 

208.  Olive  Thorne  Miller :   A  Bird-Lover  in 
the  West,  p.  83. 

209.  W.  H.  Hudson:  Birds  and  Man,  p.  277. 

210.  H.  N.  Moseley :  Notes  of  a  Naturalist  on 
the  Challenger,  pp.  175-177. 

211.  William  Brewster:  "Notes  on  the  Birds 
observed  during  a  Summer  Cruise  in  the  Gulf  of 
St.  Lawrence."    Proceedings  Boston  Society  Natu- 
ral  History,  vol.  22,  pp.  364-412;   reviewed  in 
The  Auk,  vol.  1,  pp.  379-380. 

212.  LeanderS.Keyser:  In  Bird  Land,  pp.  116- 
121. 

213.  F.  W.  Headley:   Structure  and  Life  of 
Birds,  p.  172. 

214.  C.   J.   Cornish:   Animals   of   To-day,  p. 
197. 

215.  "  A  Son  of  the  Marshes : "  On  Surrey  Hills, 
p.  39. 

216.  Annie  Martin :  Home  Life  on  an  Ostrich 
Farm,  pp.  232-234. 

217.  Fannie  Hardy  Eckstorm  :  The  Bird  Book, 
p.  3. 

218.  Mr.  Walter  Faxon :  private  letter. 

219.  Kichard  Jefferies :    Field  and  Hedgerow, 
pp.  228,  229. 


316  APPENDIX 

220.  "A  Son  of  the  Marshes :"  In  the  Green 
Leaf  and  the  Sere,  pp.  23-25. 

221.  Irene  Grosvenor  Wheelock :  Nestlings  of 
Forest  and  Marsh,  p.  119. 

222.  W.  H.  Hudson:    The   Naturalist  in  La 
Plata,  pp.  254,  255. 

223.  C.  J.  Cornish:  Animals  of  To-day,  pp.  274, 
275. 

224.  KarlGroos:  The  Play  of  Animals,  pp.  200- 
205. 

225.  W.  H.  Hudson:    The  Naturalist   in  La 
Plata,  p.  19. 

226.  Alfred  Edmund  Brehm:  From  North  Pole 
to  Equator,  p.  216. 

227.  W.   H.   Hudson:    The  Naturalist  in  La 
Plata,  p.  272. 

228.  Charles  Waterton :  Wanderings  in  South 
Ajnerica,  1879,  pp.  198,  199. 

229.  A.  W.  Anthony :  in  Auk,  vol.  17,  p.  251. 

230.  C.  William    Beebe :  Two  Bird-Lovers  in 
Mexico,  pp.  327,  328. 

231.  W.  H.  Hudson:    The  Naturalist  in   La 
Plata,  pp.  226-233. 

232.  AJfred  Newton :   A  Dictionary  of  Birds, 
p.  919. 

233.  Fannie  Hardy  Eckstorm :  The  Bird  Book, 
p.  21. 

234.  Alfred  Newton:  A  Dictionary  of  Birds, 
p.  842. 


APPENDIX  317 

235.  Alfred  Edward  Brehm :  From  North  Pole 
to  Equator,  p.  191. 

236.  Fannie  Hardy  Eckstorm :  The  Bird  Book, 
pp.  53,  54  ;  quoting  from  Capt.  D.  P.  Ingraham. 

237.  Eowland  E.  Robinson  :  private  letter. 

238.  "A  Son  of  the  Marshes:"  In  the  Green 
Leaf  and  the  Sere,  p.  128. 

239.  Fannie  Hardy  Eckstorm :  The  Bird"  Book, 
p.  242. 

240.  William  L.Finley:  "  Among  the  Pelicans," 
in  The  Condor,  March- April,  1907. 

241.  F.  W.  Headley :  The  Structure  and  Life 
of  Birds,  p.  130. 

242.  Frank  Bolles  :  From  Blomidon  to  Smoky, 
p.  199. 

243.  Maurice   Thompson :   By-ways  and  Bird- 
Notes,  p.  35. 

244.  Heinrich  Gatke  :  Heligoland,  p.  410. 

245.  Charles  Bendire :  Life  Histories  of  North 
American  Birds,  vol.  2,  p.  94. 

246.  William  Palmer :  "  The  Avifauna  of  the 
Pribilof  Islands,"  in  The  Fur  Seals  and  Fur-Seal 
Islands  of  the  North  Pacific  Ocean,  part  3,  p.  396. 

247.  Edmund  Selous  :  The  Bird  Watcher  in  the 
Shetlands,  pp.  119,  120. 

248.  W.  M.  Hudson:   The   Naturalist  in   La 
Plata,  p.  230. 

249.  Heinrich  Gatke:  Heligoland,  pp.  53,  54, 
59-62. 


318  APPENDIX 

250.  James  Orton :  The  Andes  and  the  Amazon, 
p.  131. 

251.  F.  W.  Headley :  The  Structure  and  Life 
of  Birds,  p.  83. 

252.  Arthur  Nicols  :  Zoological  Notes,  p.  167. 

253.  W.  H.   Hudson:   The  Naturalist  in   La 
Plata,  p.  219. 

254.  Arthur  Nicols  :  Zoological  Notes,  p.  308. 

255.  Dr.   Alfred    Edmund    Brehm :     English 
translation,  vol.  2,  p.  140. 

256.  Arthur  Nicols :  Zoological  Notes,  p.  290. 

257.  Nathaniel  Southgate  Shaler :  Domesticated 
Animals,  p.  156. 

258.  Alfred  Newton:  A  Dictionary  of  Birds, 
p.  549. 

259.  W.   H.   Hudson:    The   Naturalist  in  La 
Plata,  p.  21. 

260.  Maurice  Thompson :  My  Winter  Garden, 
pp.  30,  31. 

261.  Edward  H.  Forbush:   Useful  Birds  and 
their  Protection,  p.  27. 

262.  Ibid.,  p.  28. 

263.  Ibid.,  p.  28. 

264.  Ibid.,  p.  29. 

265.  Ibid.,  p.  29. 

266.  Ibid.,  p.  30. 

267.  Ibid.,  p.  32. 

268.  Ibid.,  p.  33. 

269.  Ibid.,  p.  35. 


APPENDIX  319 

270.  W.   Warde  Fowler:    A  Year   with   the 
Birds,  1886,  p.  115. 

271.  Henry  Nehrling:    Our    Native  Birds   of 
Song  and  Beauty,  vol.  1,  p.  58. 

272.  William  E.  Praeger :  "  Birds  in  Horticul- 
ture," in  Transactions  Illinois  State  Horticultural 
Society,  1899,  p.  76. 

273.  Edward  H.  Forbush :  Massachusetts  Crop 
Report,  September,  1894;  Bulletin  No.  5  of  the 
Massachusetts  Board  of  Agriculture. 

274.  F.  E.  L.  Beal :  in  Year-Book  Department 
of  Agriculture,  1896,  p.  206. 

275.  William  E.  Praeger :  "  Birds  in  Horticul- 
ture," in  Transactions  Illinois  State  Horticultural 
Society,  1899,  p.  75. 

276.  Ibid.,  p.  76. 

277.  Otto  Widmann,  quoted  by  Charles  Bendire : 
Life  Histories  of  North  American  Birds,  vol.  2, 
p.  85. 

278.  F.  E.  L.   Beal:  The  Food   of  Cuckoos, 
United  States  Department  of  Agriculture,  Biologi- 
cal Survey,  Bulletin  No.  9. 

279.  Florence  A.  Merriam :  How  Birds  affect 
the  Farm  and  Garden. 

280.  Ibid. 

281.  William  E.  Praeger:  "Birds  in  Horticul- 
ture," op.  tit.,  pp.  74,  75. 

282.  Sylvester  D.  Judd :  United  States  Depart- 
ment of  Agriculture,  Division  of  Biological  Sur- 
vey, Bulletin  No.  9,  p.  20. 


320  APPENDIX 

283.  Samuel  Smiles:   Life  of   a  Scotch  Natu- 
ralist, Thomas  Edward,  p.  406. 

284.  E.  A.  Schwarz :  in  The  Common  Crow  of 
the  United  States,  United  States  Department  of 
Agriculture,  Division  of  Ornithology  and  Mam- 
malogy, Bulletin  No.  6, 1895. 

285.  William  E.Praeger:  "Birds  in  Horticul- 
ture," op.  cit.,p.  79. 


INDEX 


INDEX 


AFFECTION,  for  the  young,  103, 
106-111 ;  in  the  family,  103-105, 
115;  of  mates,  105,  106,  111- 
115  ;  for  persons,  116-119. 

Agassiz,  Louis,  quoted,  99. 

Albatrosses,  of  Laysan,  81, 158, 
159, 189, 190 ;  a  fable  about,  89. 

Alden,  Henry  Mills,  quoted,  66. 

Allen,  Joel  Asaph,  quoted,  8. 

Altruism,  67-81. 

Anthony,  A.  W.,  quoted,  240. 

Arnold,  Sir  Edwin,  quoted,  46, 
102, 107,  108,  274. 

Audubon,  John  James,  quoted, 
67, 125,  210. 

Auk,  razor-billed,  151. 

Barrington,  Daines,  quoted,  95. 
Bartlett,  A.  D.,  quoted,  183, 184. 
Baskett,  James  Newton,  quoted, 

75,  219. 
Bathing,  94. 
Beak,  the,  257,  258. 
Beal,  F.  E.  L.,  quoted,  26,  280, 

284. 
Beebe,  C.  William,  quoted,  13- 

15, 112, 191,  192,  206,  207,  241. 
Bell-bird,  238. 
Bendire,  Major  Charles,  quoted, 

40-43,   110,  111,  114,  115,  130, 

133, 134,  136, 148, 149,  163-165, 

167, 169,  205, 208,  218,  219,  256, 

257. 
Bignell,  Effie,  her  robins,  13, 15, 

16, 119. 
Bird-student,  the  term  denned, 

4-6. 
Birds-of-paradise,  dancing  par- 


ties of,  140, 192 ;  plumage  of, 
265,  267. 

Bishop,  Watson  L.,  quoted,  169. 

Bittern,  concealing  himself  and 
defending  himself,  209,  210. 

Bittern,  American,  notes  of,  238. 

Blackbird,  European,  "  the  bell- 
man of  the  woods,"  212. 

Blackbird,  red-winged,  court- 
ship of,  139. 

Blackcock,  130. 

Bluebird,  115  ;  individuality  in, 
10,  11,  17;  captive,  32-35; 
warring  with  English  spar- 
rows, 38 ;  conversation  of,  56  ; 
battle  between  two  females, 
219. 

Bobolink,  76,  77. 

Bob-white.    See  Quail. 

Bolles,  Frank,  quoted,  4,  8,  18, 
19,  29,  30,  179,  205,  206,  254, 
283. 

Bower-bird,  141. 

Breathing,  261. 

Brehm,  Alfred  Edmund,  quoted, 
22,  112,  114,  144,  151,  169, 170, 
186,  219,  220,  239, 240,245,  246, 
"267. 

Brewer,  Dr.  T.  W.,  quoted,  280. 

Brewster,  William,  quoted,  228. 

Brightwen,  Mrs.  Eliza,  quoted, 
16,  35. 

Brown,  Captain,  quoted,  69,  70. 

Bryant,  Walter  E.,  quoted,  286. 

Buffon,  Comte  de,  quoted,  73. 

Buist,  K.  A.,  quoted,  12,  13. 

Bullfinch,  117. 

Buzzard,  turkey,  195,  196. 


324 


INDEX 


Caging,  ethics  of,  33, 34. 

Canary,  individuality  in,  12, 13 ; 
an  instance  of  jealousy,  120, 
121. 

Capercaillie,  131, 132. 

Captive  birds,  study  of,  11-13 ; 
recognition  of,  19;  returning 
to  their  cages  when  set  free, 
35;  affection  for  their  kind 
shown  by,  75;  their  affection 
for  their  masters  and  mis- 
tresses, 117 ;  a  word  for,  121, 
122. 

Caracara,  191. 

Cardinal.  See  Grosbeak,  car- 
dinal. 

Cardinal,  Brazilian,  179. 

Cassowary,  184, 185. 

Catbird,  115  ;  an  original  song, 
97;  his  bad  name,  278,  279; 
his  usefulness,  279. 

Cedar-bird.  See  Waxwing, 
cedar. 

Chachalaca,  240,  241. 

Chakar.    See  Screamer,  crested. 

Chapman,  Frank  M.,  quoted,  2, 
102,  157,  158. 

Chat,  yellow-breasted,  song  and 
habits  of,  237. 

Cheney,  Simeon  Pease,  quoted,  9. 

Chewink.    See  Towhee. 

Chickadee,  233 ;  language  of,  56 ; 
swinging,  178. 

Chickens,  Lloyd  Morgan's  ex- 
periments with,  89,  90. 

Childs,  John  Lewis,  quoted,  68. 

Cities  of  birds,  80,  81, 157-162. 

Cockatoos,  116, 117, 179. 

Cock-of-the-rock,  140. 

Colors,  discrimination  in,  15, 16. 

Concealment,  204-209. 

Condor,  dance  of,  186 ;  soaring 
of,  260 ;  plumage  of,  263. 


Coot,  European,  211,  212. 

Cormorant,  common,  love-mak- 
ing of,  138. 

Cormorant,  red-faced,  nest  of, 
165. 

Cormorants,  or  shags,  family  life 
of,  104,  105  ;  nests  of,  165. 

Cornish,  C.  J.,  quoted,  48, 54, 55, 
230,  235,  236. 

Cones,  Dr.  Elliott,  88. 

Courtship,  parts  taken  by  the 
sexes  in,  125,  126;  a  critical 
business,  126;  the  two  kinds 
of,  127 ;  of  the  grouse,  127-133  ; 
of  various  other  birds,  133-139 ; 
by  bullying,  139 ;  by  the  chase, 
139;  by  the  dance,  140;  by 
gift,  140, 141 ;  advanced  meth- 
ods of,  141, 142. 

Cowbird,  South  American,  94. 

Crane,  little  brown,  dance  of, 
182, 183. 

Crane,  sandhill,  13,  14. 

Cranes,  dances  of,  182, 183. 

"  Crazy  widow,"  239. 

Creeper,  brown,  waltzing,  185. 

Criminality,  20. 

Crossbill,  American,  56;  notes 
of,  238. 

Crow,  American,  24,  56,  242; 
estimable  qualities  of,  70; 
roosting-habits  of,  70,  71; 
a  pet  crow's  affection  for 
his  master,  118 ;  usefulness  of, 
289. 

Crow,  carrion,  19. 

Crows,  an  Indian  species,  39; 
South  African,  192-194. 

Cuckoo,  protecting  her  young, 
202,  203;  usefulness  of,  283, 
284. 

Cuckoo,  European,  232,  233. 

Curlew,  stone,  132. 


INDEX 


325 


Dancing,  181-192. 

Darwin,  Charles  Robert,  quoted, 

129. 

Davis,  E.  H.,  quoted,  218,  219. 
Day,  Miss,  quoted,  194, 195. 
Dead  birds,  271. 
Death,  feigning,  207,  208. 
Defense,  means  of,  201-213. 
Dewar,  George  A.  B.,  quoted, 

115. 
Dictionary  of  Natural  History, 

quoted,  87-89. 
Dipper,    American,    OP    water 

ouzel,  152, 153 ;  habits  of,  226, 

227. 

Dove,  mourning,  224. 
Doves,  wooing,  134. 
Dresser,  H.  E.,  quoted,  211,212. 
Drinking,  228. 

Duck,  selecting  a  mate,  14, 15. 
Duck,  eider,  111. 
Duck,  scaup,  29. 
Duck,  wild,  an  instance  of  de- 
votion,   110;   concealing    her 

young,  211. 
Dulitz,  Ernest,  quoted,  116, 117. 

Eagle,  bald,  nest  of,  165. 
Eagle,  golden,  nest  of,  165. 
Eagles,  fables  in  regard  to,  87, 

88. 

Eckstorm,  Fannie  Hardy,  quot- 
ed, 39,  40,  167,  226,  231,  232, 

243,  244,  246,  248. 
Economic  value,   275-290,    295, 

296. 

Education,  85-97. 
Edward,  Thomas,  quoted,  67, 68, 

109,  110,  288,  289. 
Elliot,    Daniel  Giraud,  quoted, 

104. 
Elliott,  Henry  W.,  quoted,  137, 

138. 


Evans,  A.  H.,  quoted,  156. 
Eye,  the  bird's,  253. 

Falcon,  Peale's,  226. 

Family  feeling,  87.  See  also  Af- 
fection. 

Faxon,  Walter,  quoted,  232. 

Feathers,  261-268. 

Fighting,  218-220. 

Finch,  purple,  dance  of,  185. 

Finley,  William  L.,  quoted,  248, 
249. 

Firewood-gatherer,  113, 114. 

Fish,  Eldridge  Eugene,  quoted, 
95, 114, 118, 119,  200. 

Fisher,  Dr.  A.  K.,  quoted,  148, 
149. 

Fisher,  Walter  K.,  quoted,  81, 
158, 159,  189, 190. 

Flagg,  Wilson,  quoted,  66. 

Flamingo,  nesting  of,  157,  158  ; 
dress  parade  of,  190, 191 ;  feed- 
ing, 246. 

Flicker,  114, 115  ;  nesting-habits 
of,  26 ;  feeding-habits  of,  26 ; 
courtship  of,  135, 136  ;  escaping 
a  hawk,  210 ;  feeding  young, 
248. 

Flight,  powers  of,  258-261. 

Flocking,  234,  235. 

Flycatcher,  vermilion,  136. 

Flying,  feats  in,  225-227. 

Food,  and  intelligence,  38,  243  ; 
storing,  38,  40 ;  ways  of  pro- 
curing. 243-248 ;  and  economic 
value,  275-290. 

Forbes,  Henry  O.,  quoted,  168, 
169. 

Forbush,  Edward  Howe,  quoted, 
v,  20,  25,  29,  274-278,  280. 

Forests,  tropical,  234-236. 

Fowler,  W.  Warde,  quoted,  2, 
57,  58,  174-176,  222,  274,  278. 


326 


INDEX 


Fowls,  domestic,  language  of,  59, 
60 ;  topographic  sense  of,  269. 
See  also  Hens. 

Freeman,  Mrs.,  quoted,  36,  37. 

Gannet,  254. 

Gardener-bird,  tent-shaped  erec- 
tion of,  141,  142. 

Gartenlauber,  the,  quoted,  132, 
133. 

Gatke,  Heinrich,  quoted,  255, 
260. 

Goatsucker,  remarkable  note  of 
a,  240. 

Goldfinch,  European,  78. 

Gould,  John,  quoted,  129, 130. 

Grebes,  227,  231. 

Greenwood,  James,  quoted,  84. 

Groos,  Karl,  quoted,  177, 178, 239. 

Grosbeak,  cardinal,  35,  75,  96, 
115 ;  and  love-birds,  15  ;  robbed 
by  English  sparrows,  244. 

Grouse,  wooing  of,  127-133. 

Grouse,  Canada,  nest  of,  169. 

Grouse,  sand,  204. 

Guillemots,  151 ;  affection  of 
paired,  105. 

Gull,  Franklin's,  affection  for 
the  young,  103,  104;  nesting- 
habits  and  young  of,  159-162. 

Gull,  herring,  notes  of,  239. 

Gull,  kittiwake,  139;  drinking 
salt  water,  228. 

Gulls,  killing  young  ducks,  20 ; 
stealing  nesting-material,  165, 
166 ;  eyesight  of,  254  ;  flight  of, 
258. 

Halloek,  Mrs.  M.  L.,  quoted,  97, 

117. 

Hamerik,  Prof.  Asger,  60. 
Harley,  Dr.  George,  quoted,  17, 

18,  22,  23,  31,32,  55,  124,  252. 


Hawk,  caracara,  191. 
Hawk,  fish.    See  Osprey. 
Hawk,  marsh,  play  of,  186. 
Hawks,  accompanying  railroad 
trains,  24 ;  training  theiryoung, 
90  ;  flight  of,  260. 
Hayward,  Jane  Mary,  quoted, 

166. 

Head-decorations,  267,  268. 
Headley,  F.  W.,  quoted,  24,  28, 

84,  229,  230,  252,  254,  261. 
Hearing,  256,  257. 
Hearn,  Lafcadio,  quoted,  37. 
Hens,  an  anecdote,  60-62  ;  a  hen 
and  a  ferret,  107,  108 ;  a  hen 
protecting  her  brood  from  fire, 
109.    See  also  Fowls,  domes- 
tic. 
Henshaw,    Henry  W.,  quoted, 

242. 
Heron,    great    blue,    and    Mr. 

Bolles,  29,  30. 

Heron,  making   himself   incon- 
spicuous, 209. 

Herrick,  Francis  Hobart,  quot- 
ed, 10, 11,  75. 
Hiding,  207,  210,  211. 
Higginson,  Thomas  Wentworth, 
his  "Outdoor  Papers,"  quot- 
ed, 4. 
Home  life,  145,  146.    See  also 

Nests. 

Homing  instinct,  269. 
Honey-bird,  230,  231. 
Hornbill,  nesting-habits  of,  164 ; 
throwing  up  the  lining  of  his 
gizzard,  164. 

EEoussay,  Fre'de'ric,  quoted,  39. 
Hudson,  William  H.,  quoted,  41, 
45, 92-94, 112-114, 154, 155, 166, 
167,  176,  177,  185-188,  208,  209, 
225-227,  234,  235,  239-242,  259, 
263,  264,  270. 


INDEX 


327 


Hummingbird,  Anna's,  nest  of, 

167. 
Hummingbird,      ruby-throated, 

208,  248. 
Hummingbirds,  plumage  of,  263, 

264. 

Hunting,  217. 
Hutcbinson,  Woods,  quoted,  66. 

Ibis,  wood,  239. 

Immortality,  271. 

Individuality,  4,  7-20. 

Ingenuity,  37. 

Ingraham,  Capt.  D.  P.,  quoted, 
157,  190,  191,  246. 

Intelligence,  of  young  birds,  17 ; 
evidence  of,  23-46;  food- 
supply  and,  38-43 ;  and  defen- 
sive arts,  201. 

Jaeger,  243. 

James,  William,  quoted,  186, 
187. 

Japan,  fearlessness  of  wild  crea- 
tures in,  37. 

Jay,  blue,  individuality  in,  19; 
language  of,  55 ;  kindly  dispo- 
sition of,  71,  72;  feeding  a  help- 
less companion,  74,  75  ;  an  af- 
fectionate, 75,  76;  singing  a 
cardinal's  song,  96 ;  imitating 
a  mockingbird,  97 ;  refusing 
freedom,  117;  dance  of,  185; 
a  practical  joke  by  a  party, 
194, 195  ;  much  maligned,  216, 
217,  279;  usefulness  of,  279, 
280. 

Jay,  Canada,  28  ;  impudence  of, 
78 ;  an  instance  of  considera- 
tion for  his  fellows,  79 ;  song 
of,  147. 

Jay,  European,  185, 186. 

Jealousy,  120. 


Jefferies,  Richard,  quoted,   43, 

44,  58, 144, 174, 178,  232,  233. 
Jones,  Lynds,  quoted,  133, 134. 
Judd,  Sylvester  D.,  quoted,  288. 
Junco,  229. 

Kagu,  184. 

Keyser,  Rev.  LeanderS.,  quoted, 
75,  76, 135,  136,  229. 

Kingbird,  75;  peaceable  nature 
of,  215,  216 ;  usefulness  of,  285, 
286. 

Kingfisher,  belted,  nest  of,  148 ; 
notes  of,  238. 

Kinglet,  ruby-crowned,  court- 
ship of,  135. 

Kumlien,  Frithof,  quoted,  74, 
75. 

Language,  50-64. 

Lanier,  Sidney,  quoted,  72. 

Lapwing,  spur-winged,  187, 188. 

Lark.   -See  Skylark. 

Laysan,  81,  158, 159,  189,  190. 

Lilford,  Lord,  quoted,  211,  212. 

Lloyd,  L.,  quoted,  131. 

Loon,  maternal  affection  shown 

by,  106,  107 ;  escaping  pursuit, 

210 ;  notes  of,  240. 
Love-bird,  15. 
Lowell,  James  Russell,  77. 
Lyre-bird,  129,  265. 

McCook,  Henry  C.,  quoted,  22, 

45. 
Magpie,  American,  cheating  a 

dog,  40-12 ;  nest  of,  153, 154 ; 

song  of,  154 ;  tail  of,  266. 
Marlatt,  Dr.  C.  L.,  quoted,  277. 
Martin,  Mrs.  Annie,  quoted,  181, 

192-194,  230,  231. 
Mathews,  F.  Sehuyler,  quoted, 

10. 


328 


INDEX 


Mating,  choice  in,  14-16;  per- 
manency of  the  union,  111- 
115 ;  uncongenial  unions,  126, 
127. 

Meadowlark,  115;  nest  of,  154; 
play  of,  180. 

Merriam,  Dr.  C.  Hart,  quoted, 
153. 

Merriam,  Florence  A.,  quoted, 
285,  286. 

Merrian,  Madam,  6. 

Migration,  269,  270. 

Millais,  John  Guille,  quoted,  20. 

Mocking,  239. 

Mockingbird,  Sidney  Lanier's 
bird,  72 ;  self-assertion  of,  72, 
73 ;  playing  a  joke  on  buz- 
zards, 195,  196;  and  a  hen, 
196  ;  dictatorial  ways  of,  214 ; 
singing  habits  of,  215  ;  tail  of, 
266. 

Montaigne,  quoted,  144. 

Morgan,  C.  Lloyd,  quoted,  17, 
89,  90,  92, 181,  182,  225. 

Moseley,  H.  N.,  quoted,  227, 228. 

Muir,  John,  quoted,  43, 152,  226, 
227. 

Nehrling,  Henry,  quoted,  279. 

Nelson,  Edward  WM  quoted, 
105, 106, 180,  182, 183, 186, 207. 

Nests,  variety  in,  147,  148 ;  un- 
derground, 148-151 ;  roofed, 
151-155  ;  hanging,  155-157 ;  in 
communities,  157-162 ;  in  trees, 
162, 163  ;  wooden  castles,  163, 
164;  decoration  of,  165-167; 
curious,  167-171. 

Newton,  Alfred,  quoted,  19, 141, 
142, 164,  165,  242,  245, 269, 270. 

Nicols,  Arthur,  quoted,  114, 170, 
171,  209,  262, 266,  267. 

Nighthawk,  171. 


Night-jar,  an  African,  266,  267. 
Norway,  lameness  of  birds  in, 

37. 
Notes,  strange,  236-242. 

Observation  by  human  beings, 

fear  of,  43,  44. 
Oldys,  Henry,  quoted,  9,  10. 
Orient,  birds  in  the,  296. 
Oriole,  Baltimore,  an  anecdote, 

69 ;  caring  for  young,  87  ;  use- 
fulness of,  280,  281. 
Oriole,  hooded,  nest  of,  155. 
Oriole,  orchard,  scolding   notes 

of,  57. 

Orton,  James,  quoted,  260,  261. 
Osprey,  or  fish  hawk,  27,  108, 

109 ;  nest  of,  163. 
Ostrich,  waltz  of,  181 ;  odd  selec- 
tion of  food,  245,  246. 
Ostrich,  South  American,  young, 

92 ;  protecting  young,  203,  204  ; 

wing  feat  of,  225,  226. 
Ouzel,  water.  See  Dipper,  Amer- 
ican. 

Oven-bird,  nest  of,  153. 
Oven-bird,    red,    nest    of,    154, 

155. 
Owl,  barred,  18  ;  feather-control 

of,  206;  eyesight  of ,  254. 
Owl,  burrowing,  the  mated  birds, 

113;  nesting-habits  of,  149, 223; 

bowing,  224. 
Owl,  elf,  nesting-habits  of,  163  ; 

its    method    of    hiding,   205 ; 

feigning  death,  208. 
Owl,  great  horned,  18 ;  wooing 

of,  133, 134 ;  feather-control  of, 

205. 

Owl,  screech,  163. 
Owls,  playfulness  of,  179,  180; 

feather-control   in,   205,  206; 

ears  of,  257. 


INDEX 


329 


Palmer,  William,  quoted,  165, 

168,  258,  259. 
Paradise  bird,  239. 
Parrakeet,  red-and-blue-headed, 

206,  207. 

Parrots,  42, 116, 179. 
Partridge,  a  South  American, 

208. 

Pelican,  248,  249. 
Penguins,  227,  228. 
Petrel,  fulmar,  259. 
Pheasant,  argus,  128,  129,  264, 

265. 

Pheasants,  28, 132,  133,  225. 
Phoebe,  conversation  of,  52,  53 ; 

a  quarrel  with  a  robin,  218, 

219. 

Pigeons,  mate  for  life,  114. 
Play,  significance   of,  175-178; 

instances  of  various  kinds  of, 

178-197. 

Plover,  courtship  of  a,  136. 
Plover,  golden,  55. 
Plumage,  261-268. 
44  Plumed  frog,"  267. 
Poisoning,  233. 
Poisonous  berries,  242. 
Police  duty,  212,  213. 
Pollard,  Evelyn  H.,  quoted,  103. 
Praeger,   William    E.,    quoted, 

279-282,  287,  291,  292. 
Prairie-dog,  149,  150. 
Prairie  hen,  140. 
Proctor,  Thomas,  quoted,  96, 97. 
Ptarmigan,  130. 
Ptarmigan,  willow,  207. 
Puffin,  tunnels  of,  150 ;  in  Lap- 
land, 151. 

Puffin,  horned,  137, 138. 
Puffin,  tufted,  137,  138. 

Quail,  or  bob-white,  104,  229. 
Quarrelsomeness,  213-216. 


Rail,  play  of,  188 ;  notes  of,  240. 

Ralph,  Dr.  William  L.,  quoted, 
165. 

Rattlesnake,  149, 150. 

Raven,  notes  of,  58 ;  play  of,  180 ; 
tormenting  a  rooster,  194 ;  wing 
feats  of,  225. 

Rhoads,  Samuel  N.,  quoted,  70, 
71. 

Riley,  Prof.  C.  V.,  quoted,  277. 

Robbery,  243-245. 

Roberts,  Dr.  Thomas  S.,  quoted, 
103,  104,  159-162. 

Robin,  American,  Mrs.  Bignell's 
captive  birds,  13,  15,  16, 119, 
180 ;  a  tame  pair,  36,  37;  teach- 
ing young  to  bathe,  94 ;  roost- 
ing-habits  of,  162;  a  nest  of, 
166  ;  an  alarmist,  213 ;  quarrel- 
someness of,  213 ;  quarrel  with 
a  phoebe,  218,  219  ;  robbed  by 
English  sparrows,  245 ;  useful- 
ness of,  286,  287. 

Robins,  Mrs.  Julia  Stockton, 
quoted,  32-35,  76,  77. 

Robinson,  Rowland  E.,  quoted, 
247. 

Romanes,  G.  J.,  quoted,  22. 

Rook,  vocabulary  of,  56,  57. 

Ruff,  courtship  of,  140 ;  fighting, 
219,  220. 

Russ,  Dr.  Karl,  quoted,  116, 117. 

Samar,  236. 

Sandpiper,  broad-billed,  55. 
Sandpiper,  pectoral,  128. 
Sandpipers,  drilled  in  the  art  of 

flying  together,  90,  91. 
Sapsucker,     red-breasted,     256, 

257. 
Sapsucker,yellow-bellied,young, 

18, 19 ;  tongue  of,  27  ;  food  of, 

282, 283. 


330 


INDEX 


Schwarz,  E.  A.,  quoted,  289. 
Scott,    William     Earl     Dodge, 

quoted,  v,  10,  19,  72,  95,  96, 

180. 
Screamer,    crested,    or   chakar, 

113 ;  chorus  singing  of,  241 ; 

•with  chickens  in    a   poultry- 
yard,  242  ;  soaring  of,  259. 
Selous,  Edmund,  quoted,  24,  28, 

56,  57,  79, 80, 104,  105, 132, 136, 

138, 139,  141,  165, 181, 222,  259. 
Shags.   See  Cormorants. 
Shaler,    Nathaniel     Southgate, 

quoted,  45, 59,  93, 102, 114, 269. 
Shearwater,  240. 
Shoveler,  245. 
Shrike,   nest  of,   167;    feeding- 

hahits  of  a,  246-248 ;  usef  ulness 

of,  287,  288. 

Shrike,  European,  24,  25,  248. 
Shrike,  loggerhead,  rescuing   a 

•wounded  companion,  68. 
Sight,  253-256. 
Singing,  lessons  in,  95. 
Skua,  arctic,  141. 
Skylark,   altruism  of  a  young, 

73 ;  escaping  a  bird  of  prey, 

211. 

Sleeping-habits,  228-230. 
Slosson;  Mrs.  Annie  Trumbull, 

quoted,  119. 
Smiles,  Samuel,  quoted,  110, 288, 

289. 

Snowflake,  106. 
"Son    of    the    Marshes,     A," 

quoted,  8,  9,  19,  24, 25,  84,  90, 

118,  180, 200, 209,  210, 212,  217, 

230,  233,  248. 
Songs,  individuality  in,  9,   10; 

how     acquired,     95-98 ;     the 

•whisper-song,  146,  147. 
Sparrow,  English,   language  of, 

54,  58,  59 ;  the  young  taught 


to  fear  man,  92,  93 ;  singing  a 
canary's  song,  97,  98  ;  unusual 
nests  of,  166 ;  mob  tactics  of, 
211;  roosting-habits  of,  230 ;  a 
robber,  244,  245. 

Sparrow,  song,  115. 

Starling,  58,  268. 

Stephens,  F.,  quoted,  205. 

Stork,  a  tame  one  attacked  by 
wild  ones,  69,  70 ;  conjugal  de- 
votion in,  114  ;  voiceless,  242. 

Swallow,  bank,  150. 

Swallow,  barn,  playing  with  a 
dog,  196, 197. 

Swallows,  following  men,  25; 
hibernating  story  of,  88. 

Swift,  chimney,  nesting-habits 
of,  25  ;  a  devoted  parent,  110, 
111 ;  sleeping,  229. 

Swift,  European,  insects  found  in 
the  mouth  of  a,  288,  289. 

Swift,  nest  of  a  Guatemalian, 
156. 

Switzerland,  bird-protection  in, 
278. 

Tallegalla,  nest  of,  170, 171. 

Tameness,  30-32. 

Taming,  35-37. 

Taylor,  H.  R.,  quoted,  165. 

Teal,  European,  20. 

Terns,  68,  79,  80  ;  nesting-habits 
of  a  species  of  tern,  168,  169. 

Thompson,  Maurice,  quoted,  27, 
59,  118,  204,  205,  254,  255,  271. 

Thrasher,  brown,  115;  individ- 
uality in,  11. 

Thrasher,  nest  of  a,  168. 

Thrush,  song,  115,  242. 

Thrush,  wood,  79. 

Titmice,  play  of,  178. 

Titmouse,  long-tailed,  103. 

Titusville,  Florida,  29. 


INDEX 


331 


Torrey,  Bradford,  232. 
Towhee,    or   chewink,    73,   74; 

singing  an  ortolan's  song,  96. 
Trailing,  202. 
Treat,  Mary,  quoted,  38. 
Tree-creepers,   or  wood-hewers, 

112,  113. 
Trogon,  266. 

True,  Frederic  W.,  quoted,  224. 
Turner,  L.  M.,  quoted,  58, 130, 

180,  181,  194,  225. 

Umber-bird,  nest  of,  169,  170. 
Umbrella-bird,  267. 

Van  Dyke,  Rev.  Henry,  D.  D., 

quoted,  58,  59. 
Vireo,  solitary,  232. 
Vireo,  yellow-throated,  232 ;  nest 

of,  166. 
Vireos,  singing  on  the  nest,  232. 

Wallace,  Alfred  Russel,  quoted, 

192. 
Warbler,  parula,  a  tame,  119 ; 

nest  of,  156, 157. 
Warren,  Oscar  Bird,  quoted,  28, 

29, 147. 
Waterton,  Charles,  31 ;  quoted, 

240. 
Waxwing,  cedar,  268  ;  usefulness 

of,  281. 


Weapons,  218. 

Webb,  Seward,  130. 

Wheelock,  Irene  Grosvenor, 
quoted,  17, 165, 166,  233. 

Whip-poor-will,  171,  202. 

Widmaun,  Otto,  quoted,  282, 
283. 

Witchell,  Charles  A.,  quoted, 
48. 

Wood-hewers.  See  Tree-creep- 
ers. 

Woodpecker,  downy,  136;  es- 
caping a  hawk,  204,  205. 

Woodpecker,  golden- winged. 
See  Flicker. 

Woodpecker,  great  spotted,  28. 

Woodpecker,  red-bellied,  eating 
oranges,  39. 

Woodpecker,  red-headed,  fly- 
catching,  26 ;  storing  food,  40  ; 
eyesight  of,  254,  255. 

Woodpeckers,  hearing  of,  256; 
usefulness  of,  282. 

Wren,  house,  134. 

Wren,  nest  of  a,  167, 168. 

Young,  the  care  for,  85-87 ;  train- 
ing of,  89-91 ;  taught  to  fear 
enemies,  91-94 ;  taught  to 
bathe,  94;  singing-lessons  of, 
95-97  ;  protection  of,  201-204, 
210,  211 ;  feeding,  248,  249. 


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THE    LAND-BIRDS    AND   GAME-BIRDS   OF   NEW 
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FRAIL  CHILDREN   OF  THE  AIR:    EXCURSIONS  INTO 
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NATURE'S  DIARY 

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CORN  PLANTS:  THEIR  USES  AND  WAYS  OF  LIFE 

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